The Darkness Within Part I
by Mijra
Summary: During the war with the Dominion, the Defiant is sent on a secret mission to rescue the crew of a missing Vulcan research ship out of enemy territory. At the same time Julian is starting to realize that something is utterly wrong with him...
1. Chapter 1

**Notes from the author:**

The story takes place during the 6th season between the episodes "Inquisition" and "In the pale moonlight". While the odds for the Federation to put a quick end to the war against the Dominion are more than low, the crew of the Defiant gets assigned to a secret mission within the Alpha Quadrant to rescue the crew of a Vulcan research vessel out of Dominion territory. At the same time, Julian is slowly starting to realize that something is utterly wrong with him...

**Category:**

Contains some darker topics, so please be warned! However, no slash, sexual content or strong language^^ The story is very canon-oriented!

**Disclaimer: **Neither DS9 nor its characters belong to me. They're all Paramount's.

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><p>– <strong>The Darkness Within – Part I –<br>**"What if the truth is not what it seems...?"

"_A lie is a way to tell the truth to someone who doesn't know."_  
>- Rule of acquisition No 152<p>

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><p><strong>- Prolog -<strong>

_Darkness._

_The black veil enshrouding him with its icy touch seemed to orig__inate__ from emptiness itself - impenetrable, merciless, cold._

_He could feel his own breath fading into the endlessness around, could feel the cold seeping through his very skin, making him shiver with anxiety. The only thing that existed in this moment was that vastness, without beginning or end - and he within._

_Cautiously putting out his hand, he wasn't sure if he really moved or if it was just pure imagination. His hand reached through the void without any sound, meeting no resistance. He felt the panic rise within him. No matter how hard he tried to clamp down on the flutter of panic, he just couldn't manage to stay calm. Then he turned - just to stare into the same blackness as before. His breath quickened, as did his heartbeat with every elapsing second._

_Helplessness._

_His world turned upside down, his whole body seemed to become so hovering and light, but still he felt a heavy weight upon his chest, a leaden burden that slowly but surely began to squeeze him to death. He cried out. Someone __had __to hear him. Someone had to be out there…_

_Only seconds after his sudden cry had faded into the dep__ths of the da__rkness, he felt the grip around his chest tighten. With blackness closing in on him and a desperate fear washing over him, he began to struggle to free himself. Had he had enough strength, he__'d have cr__ied out yet again – but there was just no breath left. Thinking only of suffocating, he spasmodically gasped for air, kicking out with every bit of energy left._

_Then he began to fall._

_Suddenly and without for__ewarning, __he was sucked down deeper and deeper into the clutches of the impenetrable abyss beneath. His stomach turned as he fell abruptly and full of panic into the de__pths._

* * *

><p><strong>- Chapter 1 -<strong>

Julian Bashir woke with a start, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, the adrenaline flooding his body enough to bring him back to full consciousness within only a few seconds. Panting, he glanced around and half expected to stare again into the impenetrable and threatening darkness from only moments before. Reaching hastily for the mattress to prop himself, he almost fell out of bed.

"Computer, lights," his unsteady voice broke the silence.

It took only a split second for the murky twilight to be replaced by dazzling, artificial daylight, making Julian instinctively squint at the sudden brightness. With a soft groan he let himself drop back onto the hard Cardassian mattress, and ran both hands over his sweaty face. His breath came still shallow and fast, his mind struggling to convince itself that this was reality. Had it just been a nightmare? He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such an intense dream. When he thought back to the oppressing darkness his world had been drowned in until only seconds ago, he still felt the paralyzing panic in every single fiber of his shivering body. It just wasn't like him to have dreams like this, and having such intense dreams was even less like him.

Inhaling deeply, he sighed. He couldn't blame himself. They were at war after all. A war no longer discerning between the good and evil he had once grown up to believe in. Not a day passed without casualties, without reminding them of how senseless all the fighting was. He wondered if things would ever be the way they once had been, though he knew that time irrevocably changed people's hearts – and his comrades and friends were no exception.

It was the war with the Dominion which was now determining their very lives, and by recalling this simple fact, Julian realized that the nightmare of only a few minutes ago was nothing more than one of the many by-products issued by the all the last months' fighting. Just another way for him to deal with all the fear and bitterness his mind wasn't able to cope with during the long hours of wakefulness.

"Computer, what time is it?"

No sooner had he drawn himself up completely, than he shoved the blanket aside, tiredly blinking several times and rubbing his sleepy eyes. He still felt groggy and light-headed, as if the last days and events had left him actually more drained than he was ready to admit.

"The time is 0500," the never faltering voice of the station's computer answered politely.

_0500 hours?_ He had slept longer than he had thought, even though it didn't feel like that. But if he was true to himself, even the few hours of sleep every night were all but enough to restore his power to its full potential. Despite his genetic enhancements, he still was only human - a fact that he liked very often to forget.

Ever since the truth about his genetic enhancements had been revealed, Julian Bashir had unconsciously tried to keep a certain distance toward the incident almost a quarter of a century ago. Although he now was able to openly use abilities he'd been so long forced to hide from everybody else, he was still hesitating, silently wishing for the events to come undone. Secretly longing for his old life, he had thought that even if other people knew about his real nature, he could just carry on like before. But his more than naive illusion had been ultimately dashed by Sloan's arrival on the station.

Taking a deep, long breath, Julian tried to slowly regain control over his thumping heart.

God, he hadn't even been seven years old, how could anyone hold him responsible for something he'd never had any influence on? It hadn't been his decision, after all. It had been his parents'. And Richard Bashir had gone to prison for it.

How might his father be at this very same moment? Julian had promised to give him a visit in the low-security penalty colony in New Zealand, and this time he had actually intended to keep his promise. Even though accepting his parents' decision after all those years was still a challenging step, he had to acknowledge that they'd done it because of their love for him. Despite all the dismay and anger he'd felt when he'd been told that Dr. Zimmerman and Chief O'Brien had overheard his parents' delicate conversation with the "other Julian", despite all the anger he had felt toward those who had once decided about his very own life and left him no chance of ever proving himself afterward, he had to realize that it had been his parents' love that had made him the man he was today. A brilliant and passionate doctor.

Perhaps this was one of the reasons why Julian had decided to give Amsha and Richard a second chance after all those years of tense relationship. Richard had gone to prison for his son and had finally taken responsibility for Julian's illegal genetic enhancements. But still... for Julian it somehow felt like having betrayed his parents. He knew it was just his own way of seeing things and that they wouldn't blame him for what had happened. That no matter what had happened or may come, his parents would always welcome him home. However, the realization brought no relief.

In his profound hurt he had used the very anger toward his parents to protect himself. Not able to bear the curious looks of others, the accusation of having cheated in life, his friends' obvious disappointment when they'd finally realized that he wasn't the person they'd thought him to be all these years, Julian had retreated into a cocoon of anger. Directing all his pent-up feelings against those who had brought him into the miserable position of leading a life based on lies, he had desperately tried to keep his world from shattering.

But all of a sudden he'd been deprived of his protection. His own father had taken all the guilt upon himself, thus giving his son the chance of continuing his career in Starfleet. It was the last thing Julian would have expected, but from one moment to the other he was standing there – utterly unprotected and defenseless in front of his own captain and his own parents. Perhaps this special moment in the captain's office had been the worst in his whole life. He had been deprived of his shielding anger and all that was left behind was nothing more than the young Julian Bashir whose over-zeal had hidden his genetically enhanced status so well for all the past several years. A child feeling deeply hurt and protesting against life's unfairness - blindly hurting those who tried to protect him.

He didn't like thinking back on that incident, on the moment when he had left Sisko's office and felt his friends' questioning gazes on his back, following him until he reached the turbolift. He wasn't sure if they had wanted to comfort him. If they had wanted to tell him that, no matter what had happened, he still was their friend and that they still liked him for who he was. But he just hadn't been able to endure them. He couldn't remember how long he'd been finding himself avoiding his own friends until he'd finally felt strong enough to face the truth.

Julian had forgiven his parents. He had even tried to rebuild the relationship with his father, promising to give him a visit back on Earth. However, the prospect of not being able to keep his promise made him feel a stab of guilt. The incident lay back more than a year now, and with the Dominion War in the Alpha Quadrant he wouldn't get the chance to travel back to Earth very soon. No one could tell how long the war was still going to determine their lives...

Groaning softly, he ran one hand across his stinging eyes. Was this the reason why he hadn't slept very well during the last weeks? Because he was afraid of what his dreams were pulling up from his subconscious into his mind? He didn't know. Leaving out the nightmare just a few minutes ago, he couldn't recall the last time he'd actually dreamed.

Julian pushed the thought away, trying to concentrate his still sleepy mind on things that lay ahead, awaiting him on yet another miserable dawn at the front. He could dimly recall Captain Sisko announcing some important news he was going to share with them first thing in the morning. However, as Sisko hadn't been willing to elaborate at that point, Julian knew practically nothing about the nature of this morning's meeting.

Feeling his heartbeat slowly come back to normal, Julian wished to just fall back into bed and forget the entire world around him. With a last sigh, though, he stood up and started dressing. After just a few moments he had changed the blue pajamas in favor of the black, blue-trimmed Starfleet uniform, put on his boots and straightened the blanket. It was not until he found himself in front of the small mirror in the bathroom that he finally realized that his thoughts had been wandering back to the nightmare. He still hadn't found any reasonable answer to the unnaturally strong feeling of fear he'd felt back then.

Julian held his face under the cold stream of water, remembering how he used to wash away his nightmares during the last year at the academy the same way every morning. It was the same kind of feeling like back in those days – only that today there would be no exams waiting for him. As he finally looked up and contemplated his wet face in the mirror, he felt better. A slight smile fell upon his lips; then he reached for the towel and gently rubbed his face. No matter how swift and comfortable sonic showers might be, in situations like this he still preferred natural, real water.

When he left his quarters and entered the deserted corridor, he hesitated, not quite sure what to do this early in the morning. The corridor was empty, the lights slightly dimmed in a futile effort to bring the familiar rhythm of day and night into space. He thought about going to Quark's and having breakfast but then almost immediately discarded the idea. He wasn't really hungry at the moment, and would rather not show up on Quark's doorsteps as the first guest this morning...

Sighing, he stretched both arms behind his back, gently flexing his tired and stiff muscles. Suppressing another yawn, he finally stepped onto the turbolift.

"Promenade."

That only left him his work, and there was enough of it to keep his mind occupied during the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>Captain Sisko stood in front of the wardroom, hands clasped calmly behind his back, when Commander Dax and Commander Worf - the last two senior staff officers - finally entered the room. Realizing that the group was now complete, Sisko nodded toward the newcomers, his features stern and concentrated. Dax returned the subtle nod before she took her place next to Major Kira, hoping that the news the captain was going to share with them wouldn't justify the ill-boding look on Benjamin's face. When Worf had also taken seat next to his wife, the captain finally cleared his throat, taking a step nearer to the table in the middle of the room.<p>

"Thank you all for coming," he began in a formal and rather grave tone. "As you might know, there is some important news I'd like to share with the rest of you." Squaring his shoulders, he continued: "Two days ago, new Starfleet orders came in, saying that the _Defiant_ is assigned for a new mission within the Alpha Quadrant. The upcoming mission will lead her to Atholes III, fifth planet of the Zenahrian solar system."

"But..." Kira hesitated a short moment, frowning. "...wasn't the Zenahrian solar system taken over by the Cardassians some months ago?"

Sisko nodded. "That's right, Major. Atholes III as well as the system's remaining eight planets have been under Cardassian control for the last three months. That's one reason for Starfleet to assign the _Defiant_ to this special mission. Just one month ago, a Vulcan research vessel called _T'Hekal_ was very close to the system..."

"According to the official Starfleet records the ship has been reported destroyed," Odo interrupted sceptically, folding both arms in front of his chest. His face was an unreadable mask as always.

"By the Cardassians?" Bashir put in.

Sisko nodded again. "According to the reports, _T'Hekal_ had an unexpected encounter with a Cardassian war ship shortly before her destruction. It is surmised that the encounter was followed by a fight whereupon the ship was completely destroyed, though the strange thing about the whole affair is that neither any debris nor any increased intensity of residual energy signatures could be found anywhere."

"Which implies that either the ship wasn't actually destroyed or that the Cardassians eliminated every kind of evidence after the incident," Worf concluded grimly.

Knitting her brow, Kira cast a confused look at Sisko. "But _T'Hekal _was a Vulcan research vessel, apparently of no danger to any Cardassian war ship. Why would the Cardassians bother to eliminate all evidence if we're at war right now, adding the fact that _T'Hekal_ had apparently intruded into enemy territory?"

"I'd say the important question is: What was _T'Hekal_'s business there anyway, Major?" Chief O'Brien raised one brow. "To the best of my recollection, the Zenahrian system is directly adjacent to the Betahrian system which had been occupied by the Cardassian Alliance only a couple of weeks before, and if the occupation of Zenahr had been even three months prior to the incident, it had to be a restricted area for any kind of research mission." O'Brien shook his head in confusion. "If _T'Hekal_ had been there on her own risk, she had to reckon on an incident."

The trace of an aware smile played around the edges of Sisko's lips. "Good point, Mr. O'Brien. Nevertheless, we're facing a problem now. Even if _T'Hekal_ was officially reported destroyed, Starfleet Intelligence filed a report last week saying that her crew has most likely survived."

"So the ship was not destroyed?" Dax asked in astonishment.

"So it would seem, Old Man, at least according to the informal reports."

Snorting scornfully, Odo shook his head. "Let me guess: Starfleet is sending us to investigate and rescue _T'Hekal's_ missing crew?"

Not responding to Odo's sarcasm, the Captain drew a long breath, then turned without another word and quickly activated the black screen in the front section of the room. All at once the smooth black surface blinked to life. Tiny, white spots appeared scattered across the face of the screen, followed by some yellow grid lines for position determination and the place names of different solar systems.

"This is a star chart of the Zenahrian system and the adjacent systems Betah and Hiar." Sisko ran his index finger over the lower midsection of the chart, continuing his course to the far right corner on the top of it before returning to the left midsection of the chart. A brief moment later, another slightly bigger red point appeared on the black background, approximately midway between the suns of both the Betahrian and the Zenahrian system, though it was situated considerably closer to Zenahr.

Sisko pointed at the new variable. "This is _T'Hekal's_ position at the time of her ostensible destruction and this…," he said, waiting for another green point to pop up before he put his finger on it, "…is Atholes III."

"_T'Hekal_ was definitely in enemy territory," Worf stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"What were the Vulcans doing in a territory that is hardly worth the risk of losing a whole ship over?" Kira shook her head incredulously.

"According to the reports, they were leading a mission exploring rarely seen chroniton clusters," Sisko offered without comment, though Kira got the underlying message and held back from any further remark. "No matter what _T'Hekal_ was doing there, the only fact that matters for us right now is that there are most likely survivors of the incident. Due to the nearness to Atholes III, Starfleet presumes to find the survivors there. It's the only class M planet nearby and therefore the only lair for the damaged vessel."

"What makes you so sure that the survivors weren't transferred elsewhere, Captain?" Odo edged in thoughtfully.

Sisko shrugged with a sigh. "_This_ Starfleet wouldn't say, but after all I've heard from Admiral Ross, Starfleet is placing their full trust in us. In other words: we can't rule out that this mission is only officially classified a rescue attempt. Nevertheless we're going to fulfill our assignment to the best we can."

"Excuse me, Sir, but hadn't Atholes III once been a Starfleet colony?" O'Brien asked with slight hesitation, casting a swift look toward the others while he was trying to dredge up some further details from his memory to fortify his presumption. He could dimly recall having once heard something about the planet now under Cardassian control.

"That's right, Chief." Striding back to the conference table, Sisko smoothed his uniform in an almost automatic movement. "Atholes III was made the habitable class M planet we know today by a special terraforming program more than forty years ago. The first colony was founded almost a year later and had been prospering ever since."

"What happened then?" Bashir was not sure if he really wanted to know, but for as long as he could remember he had never again heard anything about a colony on Atholes III. "The Cardassians?" he ventured.

"To the best of my recollection, it wasn't the Cardassians who caused the colony's fall." Obviously searching through her own memories, which was considerably easier for her because she could refer to the experiences and memories of seven lifetimes, Dax gave a slight frown.

"One of my previous hosts once met a former colonist. I'm not quite sure but I think Starfleet had to abandon the colony after only two decades. The adjacent systems of Betah and Hiar had been in a rather weak peace treaty. When the war between the two systems and its residuals, the Lennarean and Morani, was threatening the colony some years later, Starfleet was forced to give up the colonization program."

"But I thought the Lennarean and Morani were living in peace now," Bashir retorted in confusion.

"That's right, Julian. The war didn't end until after some twenty years had passed. A considerably long time, but in the end, both races agreed to negotiate another peace treaty, whereupon the Zenahrian system was declared neutral territory to both the Lennarean and Morani. Starfleet was therefore no longer able to pursue their former colony plans without infringing on the interests of both peoples. Atholes III was subsequently canceled for any future colonization programs." Dax was looking at Sisko to confirm her words and, receiving a short nod from the captain, she folded both hands and leaned back.

Kira was also addressing Sisko, though her features were more tense. "There's still another reason for Starfleet to send us for the rescue mission, isn't there?"

Turning toward his assembled senior staff, Sisko hesitated a short moment, then continued: "According to their reports, Starfleet Intelligence has made another – rather startling – discovery: The main reason for Starfleet to send the_ Defiant_ to Atholes III is that one has discovered yet another Dominion weapons factory and cloning facility."

A stifling silence filled the room as the captain's words seeped in. Cloning facilities, breeding Jem'Hadar soldiers on the stage of war without the long detour from the depths of the Gamma Quadrant. Even though it was common knowledge that facilities like this had already been existing for quite some time within the Cardassian territory – at latest after the destruction of the Dominion's task force in the wormhole – the news came as a violent blow in the desperate struggle against the Gamma Quadrant's galactic order.

"And they want _us_ to destroy it." Kira's voice was cold and quiet as she finally broke the icy silence.

Managing a nod, Sisko ran one hand over his beard. "Our official assignment says that we have to take out the newly commissioned facility and rescue _T'Hekal's_ survivors on Atholes III."

"Well, what could be easier than that?" Odo snorted, leaning forward and propping himself on his elbows, obviously waiting for Sisko to elaborate on how the_ Defiant_ was expected to work the miracle necessary to weaken the enemy behind their own lines. Bashir and O'Brien also seemed to be rather sceptical about Sisko's words, for it was one thing to combat the enemy in the vastness of space, but an entirely other thing to take out a most likely well guarded enemy facility with only a limited number of foot troops. To say nothing of getting anywhere near the planet without being detected by the Cardassians in the first place.

"Getting to the Zenahrian system should be the least of our problems, Constable. A short time before _T'Hekal_ disappeared without a trace, Starfleet Headquarters received an encoded subspace message. After its decryption, they found out that it contained the exact phase frequency of the defense station orbiting Atholes III, as well as some important information about the configuration of the phase modulation drive of the Cardassian war ship."

O'Brien's eyes all at once widened with realization. "That means that – if we modulate the _Defiant_'s field generators in order to make them correspond to the phase modulation drive of the Cardassian ship, setting the_ Defiant_'s propulsion shields to an eroding pattern…"

"…we'll make it with the cloaking device and the new modulation to Atholes III without anyone noticing," Sisko finished, smiling.

Only a second later, O'Brien's face lost some degree of its elation when he thought about the problems of such a reconfiguration. Without the right equipment, a recalibration like this was almost impossible and to get the necessary components which were required for the job, it was at least necessary to obtain a fully functioning enemy ship. "There's just one problem, Sir…"

Not willing to let the chief elaborate any further, Sisko continued in a firm voice. "I'm aware of the problems of such a reconfiguration, as is Starfleet. The phase modulation coils you'll need will arrive at the station this very evening, together with Captain Robert Evans who's been assigned to our mission by Starfleet as well."

"Evans, Sir? You're not talking about _the_ Robert Evans from the Telarian Wars?" O'Brien incredulously asked, casting a swift look around. When no one seemed to share his excitement, thought, he knew he was due for an explanation. Already musing upon how to start, the chief was surprised when suddenly Sisko cut in with a slight smile.

"Captain Robert Evans was one of Atholes III's former colonists before the colony's abandonment. With the Dominion's new facilities expected to be situated right next to the largest city on the northern continent, Evans has been assigned to this mission to serve as our guide. His war experience in the Telarian Wars as well as his familiarity with the surroundings we'll have to face make him the key element of our mission."

Snorting briefly, Worf faced the captain with a somber expression. "Even if Starfleet's intention is honorable, I don't think it'll work that easily. The_ Defiant_ is a strong ship but not so strong as to stand against a whole armada of Cardassian and Dominion ships. It would be nothing more than a suicide mission."

Inhaling deeply, Sisko raised his hand. Even though Worf's doubts were more than justified and even though he was sure that he would get the commander's full support even if he ordered so desperate a mission against all odds, there was an essential part he hadn't told his crewmen yet. Worf's fighting reputation was well known but Sisko didn't intend to submit his crew to any unnecessary danger. At first he'd protested vehemently against Starfleet's orders himself, had even addressed Admiral Ross to make him realize the absurdity of such a mission. Sisko didn't want to be the judge over life and death of his crew, not even when the situation of the war demanded it. But at that time back in his office, when he'd been face to face with the admiral, he hadn't known the full details of their mission, just as his officers didn't know now.

"Good point, Mr. Worf. Under normal circumstances such a mission would be fatal. But we have one decisive advantage: because of the relative seclusion of Atholes III, the Dominion has become only recently aware of its vantage point for a new cloning facility and weapon factory in the Alpha Quadrant. According to Starfleet Intelligence, the construction of the site started about only six weeks ago, which means that it's still a long way until it'll be finally completed. And because of the relative seclusion of the complex, the site's security is not as prioritized as one would expect."

Spreading his hands with a humorless smile, Sisko shook his head. "We're at war. Not only our side has to make do with available resources. At least now luck is on our side. According to the reports, Atholes III has a considerably strong starship defense system, orbiting the planet on a mobile station which opens fire on everything that doesn't correspond to its security protocol. It's exactly this kind of problem we're going to bypass with the_ Defiant's_ new phase modulation coils. After that we'll have to get down onto the surface. We'll send foot troops into the complex, we will override the security mechanism and destroy the whole facility."

O'Brien's face grew confused. "But how to get in there without anyone noticing?"

When the captain finally spoke, his voice remained stern. "That's exactly the reason for Captain Evans to accompany us on our mission. It'll be his job to get us safely in there."

"When's the departure?" Kira interjected.

"As soon as Chief O'Brien has completed the installation of the new components."

Meeting Sisko's questioning gaze, O'Brien just shrugged. "I guess the whole thing will take no more than three days – depending on the compatibility and quality of the coils," the Irishman hesitantly concluded.

"Very well. The_ Defiant_ will need two more days to get into the Zenahrian system, so there's still enough time to elaborate on the exact mission when Captain Evans arrives on the station." Sisko's hard and commanding tone grew gentle, when he nodded towards his crewmen and friends. "Until then, pursue your normal duties. Dismissed."

* * *

><p>"Who's that Captain Evans anyway?"<p>

Julian was holding the mug with both hands, swaying the green liquid gently to cool the beverage. Small, thin billows of steam snaked up from the cup, fading into the air as they cooled down to room temperature.

"You mean, you don't _know_ Evans?" the chief retorted in an exaggeratedly dismayed voice, his grimace clearly indicating that Julian was obviously lacking of the most basic knowledge one was expected to have as a Starfleet officer.

Shrugging, Bashir didn't reply, convinced that lacking in this kind of knowledge wouldn't seriously hurt his career. He hadn't been the only one not to recognize the name. Having noticed the quizzical faces of his friends when Sisko had started to talk about Evans, Julian knew that the name hadn't been very familiar to them either.

Sighing heavily, Miles leaned forward and propped himself on folded arms on the small table of Quark's, casting a swift glance over his shoulder as if he was still waiting for the Ferengi to finally bring the Raktajino he had ordered almost a solid quarter of an hour earlier. The bar was more crowded than usual, thought the noise level was surprisingly low. Only every now and then the happy shouts of lucky dabo winners filled the air.

They had been able to snatch a table next to the exit, but the relative far distance from the bar's main attraction center meant obviously the same for Quark's service.

"Give it up, Miles," Julian grinned. "He forgot it."

Following Bashir's gaze to the back part of the casino where Quark was apparently relishing the company of two scantily dressed Bolian ladies, the Irishman let himself slump back in his chair, snorting under his breath as he seemed to think about whether or not it would be worth his time to complain to Quark about his lack of interest in his customers.

"Perhaps you'd better order another Raktajino." Meeting O'Brien's irritated look, Julian suddenly raised his hands in defense. "Well, just an idea."

"A very smart one, Julian," the chief grumbled absently.

Recognizing O'Brien's slowly rising irritation, Bashir took another sip of the green tea, before he finally put it down and leaned back as well. "So who's that Captain Evans? I've never heard of him but after all your talking he seems to be quite good," he tried to distract the chief.

Laughing out shortly, O'Brien faced Julian again, grimacing. "Quite good? Evans is one of the best. He's fought five years in the Telarian Wars. His career is so remarkable that many even consider him a Federation hero."

"That good, hmm?" Julian's voice carried a slight hint of disappointment. He couldn't complain about his own abilities. Ever since his genetic enhancements had been revealed, he had gotten used to the constant feeling of a certain superiority toward others – even if he didn't like to admit it. Hearing O'Brien now sounding so fascinated about Evans' accomplishments made him feel some small stab of jealousy. He pushed the thought away – though he was also looking forward to actually meeting the new captain. He knew that not too seldom a man's reputation was stronger than his deeds. Julian could very well remember the Bajoran war hero Li Nalas on whose side he had once fought when the terror organization of the Circle had threatened the station. It made him wonder how many people might have actually known the real Li Nalas before his death had finally and forever made him the person people had always believed him to be.

"I'm really looking forward to meeting him," O'Brien continued. "I don't think we'll have any big problems with Captain Evans, if he accompanies us on our mission. As far as I know, Evans is an excellent strategist who knows a great deal about what he's doing."

"Really sounds like a terrific man," Julian assured the chief, stifling a short yawn as he ran one hand over his strained eyes. He was still tired even though the day hadn't even halfway passed. There would be plenty of work waiting for him once he'd finished his lunch and returned to the Infirmary.

"You look tired, Julian. Slept badly?" the chief asked sympathetically, as if he exactly knew what had kept the young man from getting a full night's rest last night.

Bashir just shook his head. "No, actually just not enough."

He wasn't sure why he was lying, but for the time being he didn't feel like talking about last night's events which he'd rather like to ignore. It had just been a dream, after all. A dream that had vanished as quickly from reality as darkness had vanished from the light. Everyone had things to worry about – and he seriously doubted that the nightmare the night before had meant more than just the daily worry about the war and the Dominion.

"When is Captain Evans' ship scheduled to arrive?" Julian tried to change topics.

Shrugging, the chief shook his head. "I'm not sure, but the captain said something about this evening. I don't know the exact time but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. When I think about the installation of the new phase modulation coils into the_ Defiant_, I'm still regretting that I haven't taken more time off during the last couple of days…"

Julian couldn't help wondering how many times in his life O'Brien had regretted his position as DS9's chief of operations. His daily life consisted of nothing more than repair work and every time he thought he'd finally fixed something up, there was another thing that broke the very instant the old work was finished. Installing the new phase modulation coils into the _Defiant _would most probably take another three days at least – provided that the chief worked efficiently and that there weren't any unexpected other problems to grapple with.

"What about a visit to the Holosuite after work?" Julian suggested with a short nod toward the second floor, flashing a conciliatory smile. "I'm sure we can still get some time in there."

"I'm sorry…," O'Brien shook his head, slowly drawing himself up, "…but I can't, Julian." He could see the young man's disappointment and smiled awkwardly. "I've got to check on the plasma vent before I can start with the_ Defiant's_ reconfiguration. Captain Sisko expects me to start with the installation of the coils as soon as they reach the station."

Nodding with understanding, Julian leaned forward, though he didn't manage to completely hide his disappointment. "That's alright, Miles. Besides, I've still got a lot of work to do. I guess it'll keep me occupied more than only one evening…," Bashir smiled encouragingly.

"Alright then, take care, Julian," O'Brien sighed briefly before he finally hurried out of Quark's.

Leaning back, Julian's face went blank as he stared absently in front of himself. Well, then it wouldn't be spy time this evening. But being true to himself, he hadn't even lied to the chief. There actually was quite a considerable backlog of work… Perhaps it was best not to waste more time than necessary.

"You okay, Doctor?"

The sudden nearness of the voice drew his attention all at once back to the bar. When he lifted his gaze, he met the round face of the Ferengi. Quark was holding a steaming cup of brown liquid and looking down at him in confusion.

When Bashir got up with a sigh and shoved the chair back toward the small table, he managed to avoid the bartender and said dryly: "You've just missed him, Quark," before he took O'Brien's cue and left the still half-crowded place, heading for the infirmary.

Quark simply shook his head, snorted under his breath and started for the bar to get rid of the now superfluous Raktajino.


	2. Chapter 2

- **Chapter 2 -**

Captain Benjamin Sisko was impatiently pacing the deserted corridor, hands clasped behind his back, every now and then casting a swift glance at the closed airlock to his right. He'd already talked to Evans some hours earlier over intercom and had been anything but unimpressed by the older man's self-confident and reassuring appearance. Even though he hadn't let it show during the short conversation with Evans in his office this afternoon, Sisko was glad to have an experienced and skilled officer like him along. Too much had gone wrong during the last months, too much that had drastically weakened Starfleet's position against the Dominion. When there was the smallest chance of hurting the enemy behind their own lines and delivering them an remarkable if not deadly blow, he would do everything required.

Slowly, he raised one hand to his combadge but hesitated in mid-movement. When would the _Kalandra_ finally arrive at the station? Every minute slipping by without an actual sign of the ship made Sisko's uneasiness grow, making him fear the worst, that he would never even catch a glimpse of the ship at all. How much time had passed since he'd been afraid of space like this? Hadn't it been his very wish to travel to all those distant, pinprick-sized stars scattered across the vast black velvet he once had watched so wistfully every night from the window of his room, that had made him enter Starfleet in the first place? How often had he lain awake, listening to the clatter down in the kitchen while his thoughts had meandered farther and farther away from home, toward that unknown territory in the sky? He had always done it secretly, without letting his father know, who might have set up quite a fuss if he had ever found out what his twelve year old boy had still been doing up so late at night. Sometimes he had fallen asleep over his watching and the fantasies of space-traveling but sometimes he had just lain back and kept watching the moon and stars until long after midnight.

When exactly had it happened that he'd become so afraid of his childhood dream? Sighing, he shook his head. He didn't know. The war changed people, and he was no exception. Now, every time he thought about the vastness and endlessness of space, there was one thing that dominated everything else: the Dominion. It was as if his mind was captured in an endless loop, spinning around in circles without ever finding a solution, without ever finding a way out. Every day brought news about new defeat, about new casualties and the worst of all was – there was absolutely nothing Sisko could do about it.

He had tried to. Since the beginning of the war, he hadn't seen the endless lists of the wounded or dead as pure succession of letters. He had tried to keep every single name – at least for the few seconds he read it – in memory, as a last honor, giving that person's life a final tribute. He had spent hours in front of the big board, reading off every single name, silently praying not to know anyone in person. But as time went by, the columns and endless numbers of names had coalesced into one blurry, inexpressive mass. He still kept reading them, kept sorting through them, but when he now looked at the names, they were simply bright, green letters on a black, lifeless display – and this they would remain for every following generation. Figures and names, whose importance faded in the course of history until ultimately nobody would recall their original value. As much as he wanted to hold the lives of the dead dear, virtue and ideals were weak notions in the face of a war's power of destruction.

But yet he was still there, still ready to follow his conviction, to even go to death for it. If he had learned one thing during these past months, it was that there didn't exist just winners and losers. Sometimes you had to lose in order to win, and sometimes you had to sacrifice a part of your own conviction along the way.

He wasn't willing to give up yet. He wouldn't have been DS9's commanding officer for so many years, if he let himself be put to flight so easily. Starfleet winning the war against the Dominion was against all odds, even with the Klingons on their side. But what good would it do his crew if their own captain lost his courage in the face of such hopelessness? Hadn't it been himself who had not long ago told Bashir, he would never consider capitulation as a possible solution to end the war, no matter what his statistics might say? No, he hadn't considered that alternative and he still wouldn't now. As long as there was hope he would stand his ground and step in for the freedom of the Alpha Quadrant. That was what qualified a good captain. His crew needed hope, and he was the only one to give it to them. Starfleet's ideals were not yet lost and even if he had to lose in order to win at length, he wouldn't hesitate to act. They would fight together.

"Kira to Captain Sisko."

The sudden call pulled him out of his thoughts, bringing his mind back to the here-and-now. Raising his right hand, he tapped his combadge.

"Sisko here, go ahead, Major."

"We've received the _Kalandra's_ hail for permission to dock. I just thought you'd like to know."

Nodding to himself, Sisko let out a short sigh. "Acknowledged. I'm on my way. Sisko out."

Only a few seconds after Kira's voice had faded from the empty corridor, Sisko rubbed his tired eyes and absently straightened his uniform before he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders for what lay ahead. Trying to regain his inner peace, he shook his head and stepping back to take position next to the docking hatch, waited for the docking procedure to end. So he was finally about to meet the famous Federation hero Evans, the incredible man who had worked miracles in the Telarian War… at least for the moment he tried to push those thoughts of death and destruction out of his mind.

"Captain!"

Startled, he turned in direction of the unexpected voice, just to see Bashir on the other side of the deserted corridor, sauntering casually over to him. The young man flashed a sheepish smile, casting a quick but intent lock at the still closed airlock. Nodding to the captain, he stepped right to Sisko's side, adjusting the medkit he had slung loosely over his left shoulder.

"Dr. Bashir?" Sisko wasn't sure what business had brought the young doctor down to the docking ring for Kira would have informed him about possible damage to the _Kalandra_ immediately. No way that there was any medical emergency. If anything, Bashir ought to be in his infirmary, ready to treat possible wounded from the incoming ship.

As if for excuse, Bashir just shrugged, directing his questioning gaze back at the hatch. "Major Kira told me, there was nobody hurt over there. I asked nurse Bendi to have a watchful eye on the infirmary while I'm gone," he smiled mischievously.

Even before Sisko could form a reply, another familiar voice resounded from the corridor walls.

"Benjamin, Julian!"

Commander Dax was nearing them with a small bag dangling absently in one hand. She threw a similar questioning and interested look toward the still closed docking hatch before she offered a genuine, reassuring smile. "I was on my way to the science lab, so I thought I might as well stop by while I'm around. Thought you could use some company, Benjamin," she said with a short and friendly nod toward Julian.

Arching one brow, Sisko opened his mouth in response but his words were drowned when another cursing guest made his way around the corner.

Chief O'Brien was apparently deeply absorbed in the struggle with the tiny device he held in one hand, tapping wildly on its display, only realizing the bunch of them were there soon enough not to completely bump into them. "What are _you_ doing here?" Taken aback, he looked at them in turn, obviously completely forgetting the problems he'd had with his tricorder only moments ago.

Turning to face Bashir and Dax, Sisko said in strained tones: "Good point, Mr. O'Brien."

Bashir smiled again sheepishly, raising both hands in defense. "I think your little speech this morning sparked some interest, Miles…" he remarked casually, pointing vaguely toward the next two visitors entering their view.

"I… didn't figure there would be such a gathering…" Kira said embarrassed, while Odo next to her folded both hands in front of his chest, snorting in amusement.

"Neither did I," Sisko scolded, looking at each one of his senior staff in turn.

"Worf!" Jadzia's cheerful voice announced yet another newcomer. So they were finally complete...

Worf had stopped the very same instant he'd rounded the corner, still standing indecisively in the distance, watching the assembled officers with a dark frown as if he still regretted the moment he'd decided to make his way down to the docking ring.

"I shouldn't have come…", the Klingon grumbled in irritation, averting his gaze. Sisko knew very well how embarrassed Worf must feel about being caught in the very act – though he was not the only one.

"Am I right, if I assume we're all waiting for the same person?" Odo pointed out sarcastically, positioning himself next to Dax to make room for the incoming passengers of the _Kalandra_.

"Evans?" Bashir suggested innocently.

Sisko didn't have the time to elaborate on Bashir's remark when the familiar hiss of the docking hatch reverberated from the surrounding metal walls. All heads involuntarily spun around toward the huge gearwheel that rolled laboriously to the side only seconds later, revealing the flow of passengers waiting behind. The first newcomers stepped down the narrow stairs hesitantly, confused about the large delegation awaiting them as soon as they set foot on the space station. Sisko nodded encouragingly, gesturing for the them to move on and make way for the remaining passengers.

A few moments later, the wave of arriving passengers had mainly passed, until only some single stragglers kept descending the stairs every now and then, eager to keep up with the on-moving mass that made its way toward the inner core of DS9. Watching the rest of his officers intently studying every newcomer, Sisko smiled slightly over the advantage of knowing what Evans actually looked like – even if he had only spoken to him over subspace.

When finally an elderly, portly man in red uniform descended from the docking hatch, Sisko was the first to step forward and offer his hand. Taking the cue, the older man's lips drew into a genuine smile. "Captain Sisko?"

"Nice to meet you in person, Captain Evans."

Bashir cast a quick glance at O'Brien, though the chief was too busy watching his idol than to realize his friend's questioning gaze.

Captain Evans was a handsome man in his middle years. His face edged with deep lines and his hair with a slight hint of gray, his posture conveyed not only confidence and superiority but also a natural warmth that deepened when Evan's shook the younger captains hand with open sincerity. When Evans stepped next to Sisko, he was about the same height as the younger captain.

"Captain Evans, may I introduce you to my senior staff? Major Kira, Constable Odo, Commander Dax, Commander Worf, Dr. Bashir and Chief O'Brien." Sisko turned round to indicate each of them, finally facing Evans again.

The older captain nodded in acknowledgment. "I'm happy to receive such a reception committee, although I hadn't figured that I'm that important." Smiling crookedly, he added in afterthought: "Well, I really haven't expected such a fuss about my person but thank you anyway."

Sisko once again glanced at his officers. "To be true, this committee was of a rather spontaneous nature. But, what about showing you your quarters? You surely must be tired from the long journey. I think there'll still be plenty of time to get to know each other."

Sighing, Evan grimaced: "Yes, indeed. You wouldn't believe what strange people you encounter on a simple passage across the quadrant..." When Sisko gestured along the corridor, Evans flashed another last smile toward the others. "If you'll excuse me." Then he took the cue and followed Captain Sisko toward the pulsing heart of DS9.

Only a few moments after Captain Sisko and his guest had vanished around the corner, and the assembled group of Starfleet officers started dissipating rapidly in all directions, quick, hastily nearing footsteps echoed from the walls. A few seconds later, a small figure, about the seize of a child, came stumbling round the corner, making O'Brien instantly stop in surprise.

"Nog?"

When the young Ferengi slithered to a halt in front of the chief and Bashir, everyone else turned as well.

The Ensign threw a quick glance toward the docking hatch, panting heavily for breath.

"Did I miss him?"

* * *

><p>"So, what do you make of him?"<p>

Pacing impatiently to and fro, one hand absently placed at his chin, O'Brien shot an expectant and somewhat triumphant look toward Julian. No sooner had they made their way to the promenade than O'Brien had installed himself in the young doctor's infirmary. The fact that his commanding officer had just ordered him to get to work with the necessary installation of whatever Evans had brought along in his magic hat must have been completely lost on the chief.

"Evans?" Bashir retorted with slight irritation as he bent over the medical console of the quiet infirmary, trying to search the nucleotide sequence rattling down on the small screen in front of him for traces of a postnatal genetic mutation. He'd received the sample shortly after the arrival of the _Kalandra _this afternoon from her chief medical officer Dr. Morgan, who'd asked Julian to help with the treatment of one of his patients on board. Even though he had more work of his own on DS9 than he could actually deal with, he just hadn't been able to turn down Dr. Morgan's request – there was a life at stake, after all. There still remained enough time to sort through the sample Dr. Morgan had sent him from the _Kalandra_ and search for the anomalies causing the rapidly worsening symptoms the patient was currently showing. If he hurried and found the genetic disposition quickly enough, the patient would stand a far better chance of a full recovery. The fact that he had only three hours left till the departure of the ship made Julian painfully aware that he was running out of time.

"Of course Evans!" O'Brien called out, incredulous. "Did you even listen to a single word I said, Julian?"

For the first time, the young man cocked up his head, eying the chief with slight resignation. "Of course I've listened, Miles." He let his head drop a few inches and sighed but then leaned back, looking squarely back at O'Brien. "He looks like a nice person," he shrugged warily.

Julian knew that O'Brien wouldn't leave his infirmary until he gave him a satisfying answer, and with the chief pacing up and down next to him, he couldn't work as efficiently as he needed. So the fastest way to get O'Brien out of the infirmary – apart from throwing him literally out of it – was to tell him what he wanted to hear. At least he would be able to concentrate fully on his work afterward. Alone.

"Nice? That's everything you can think of when you see that man?"

If he hadn't know for sure that O'Brien wasn't actually angry with him, Julian would have felt insulted by the chief's tone. So he just shrugged. He just couldn't share O'Brien's enthusiasm about the new captain. Right, when he'd seen Evans standing in the frame of the docking hatch, he'd been no less impressed by the man's aura of authority and superiority than all the other officers present. To O'Brien's credit, the chief hadn't exaggerated. Evans definitely _was_ special and no ordinary Starfleet captain but in was also too early to tell anything more about his real character. And Julian just didn't have enough strength left to lose himself in such blind elation right now.

Shaking his head, O'Brien put both hands on his hips, his face suddenly drawn into a grimace. For one short moment absorbed in his private thoughts, he tried again."You'd never guess that Evans is over sixty, would you?" he pointed out.

_Over Sixty?_ _Then he looked pretty good for his age_. "You sure?" Bashir asked in spite of himself.

"Look into his medical file," O'Brien bargained expectantly but Bashir just shook his head.

"If you say so."

Frustrated, O'Brien let his arms sink to his side. "What's up with you, Julian? You're so…so…" The Irishmen seemed to search for the right word.

"Uninterested?" Julian offered with a humorless chuckle but became serious again. "I'm sorry, Miles, if I can't share your excitement about Evans' arrival but you see, I had a bad night, a lot of backlog of work and I'm under great time pressure. The only thing I want to do now is get through with everything. Captain Evans might really be the incredible Federation hero you deem him to be but there's still enough time to find out."

"I'm sorry, Julian. You're right. Perhaps I had better get to work myself. I'm sure those phase modulation coils are already waiting impatiently for their installation." O'Brien turn with a last shrug and started for the door.

"Miles…" Bashir sighed.

When the chief arrived next to the door, he turned, finally flashing a sad but encouraging smile. "It's okay, Julian. But please, take care." Then he left and vanished into the bustle of the promenade, the infirmary's door hissing shut in his back, drowning the infirmary once again into silence.

Feeling all at once more exhausted than only minutes ago, Julian let his head sink heavily into both palms. His body still felt groggy and drained, his head hurting with the subtle pain that had already accompanied him over the first half of the day.

He hadn't wanted to make O'Brien angry and he really _was_ sorry that he couldn't bring up more interest for Evans but after he'd seen the captain stepping down from the docking hatch with his own eyes and after Evans hadn't proven to be the super hero Miles seemed to believe him to be, Julian's scantily gathered energy was finally used up. He hadn't lied when he'd told the chief that all he wanted to do right now was finish his work as quickly as possible and get back to the solitude of his quarters.

Pushing the unpleasant thoughts away, he lifted his gaze and with a few taps on the console placed the medical file of the _Kalandra_'s patient onto the display in front of him, trying to drum up his last energy to concentrate. Sorting through the endless rows of familiar base pairings of humanoid DNA, his gaze fell upon a change in the sixty-third base pairing. With another tap he brought the spinning succession to a halt, leaned back and absently took one hand to his chin.

"Computer, compare the present base pairings adenine and guanine of the sixty-third base pairing and the following pairings in both directions of the patient with the records of the _Kalandra_ dating back about two weeks. Is there a change in the complementary characteristic?"

"Negative, samples correspond by one hundred percent."

Sighing, he tried again.

"Computer, compile a table with all known cases in which the symptoms of the malady correspond to the symptoms of the patient of the _Kalandra_. Compare the designated parts of the nucleotide sequence to each other."

"Acknowledged. Process will take some minutes," the expressionless computer voice answered.

It was the right way, he was sure. Perhaps he could even find a solution before the departure of the _Kalandra_.

"Doctor Bashir?" a young Bajoran nurse asked gingerly, offering him a PADD. He hadn't even noticed her approach. "Starfleet's request for a status report on Commander Carter."

Taking the PADD he was offered, he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. "Starfleet needs a report on Commander Carter?"

Slightly unsure, the nurse's gaze dropped to the floor. Realizing his mistake, Julian turned to face the young Bajoran woman who apparently felt quite uneasy about having to disturb him during his work. "It's okay. I'll see to it," he tried to put as much sympathy in those words as he was able to muster before he turned once more to the spinning nucleotide sequence on the display.

Why did Starfleet Medical need a report about Commander Carter when there were enough other things of more importance than the endless reports about smaller injuries that mainly remained the same anyway? He decided to prioritize. He would deal with the report later.

"Comparison completed. Table was created."

When the endless numbers and letter combinations rattled down on the black display, Julian involuntarily cast a swift glance at the chronometer. It was still late afternoon, even if the infirmary was remarkably silent. Waiting for the end of the listing, Julian closed his eyes, sighing.

It would be a long evening…


	3. Chapter 3

**- Chapter 3 -**

_Darkness. _

_The black veil of night enshrouded him, taking him into its gentle and dark embrace. He could hear the heavy pounding of his heart, could feel the fresh fragrance of the sheets as he spasmodically sank his fingers into the soft fabric of the blanket. _

_He was alone._

_A low and deep purr next to him suddenly drew his attention. Just for a moment he forgot everything around, just to see what it was that was sharing his solitude. But he couldn't. The impenetrable darkness covering him was drowning his vision in blackness, making him nearly burst yet again into tears, when suddenly something fluffy and soft touched his wet cheek._

_Gingerly, he raised his hand, reaching out into the direction of the mysterious thing and stroking affectionately over its thick fur. His fingers started to relax until he reluctantly rolled onto his belly, the blanket still tightly drawn over his head. The purring sound suddenly stopped, the fluffy fur tickling his face when the strange thing crept slowly out from under the blanket. _

_He felt disappointed, no longer comforted by the warmth and security he so much longed for. Cautiously he left his cover as well, spotting the thing sitting straight on the end of his bed. It was watching him. The pale moonlight filtering in through the window cast a dark shadow on the wall behind it._

_Curiously he kept watching, unable to tear his gaze away from the black thing when he suddenly heard footsteps. An echoing, nearing sound that faded after only a few seconds. He caught his breath, too frightened and startled to draw back under the protecting blackness of his cover, staring soundlessly into the twilight which lay ahead. The thing in front of him moved, emitting a short_ _purr as it leaped into the darkness, beyond his perception._

_He started to cry again, tucked his head back under the blanket, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. Burying his face spasmodically between his tightly drawn elbows, he couldn't stop the tears from running down his cheeks._

* * *

><p>"Analysis of the polypeptide comparison complete."<p>

Julian's head jerked up violently. His heart still pounding painfully in his chest, he dizzily tried to look around, though the pain flaring up his back due to the unnatural position he'd been in all at once kept him from any more attempts to orient himself. Slowly, he opened and flexed his folded arms, propping himself on the edge of the blinking console, his arms unsteady and trembling.

He must have fallen asleep.

Squinting several times against the infirmary's bright light, he could feel his body shiver with unnatural anxiety. Casting a quick look around, he made sure that he was alone before he let his head drop heavily back into his hands, groaning softly as he closed his eyes and tried to get his ragged breath back under control. Panting, he rubbed his eyes. He wasn't even surprised to find his hands come back wet from his own cheeks.

He had dreamed. Not the same dream as the day before but a dream of no less intensity. He still could feel the fluffy fur streaking his face, the fresh fragrance of the sheets, the soft blanket that had covered and protected him. But as well the fear, despair – and sadness of that moment. It had been so real, almost as if it had been himself lying furled up in that bed, in that dark room whose single light had been that of the pale moon. No matter what it was that made him dream such things, he was anything but thrilled about it.

As the seconds slowly elapsed, his heartbeat gradually slowed down far enough for him to finally dare to lift his gaze again and search for the chronometer.

_2100 hours_. He had almost slept half an hour. The only consolation that remained was the fact that the polypeptide analysis had taken about the same time to finish. He had already given up finding a cure for Dr. Morgan before the departure of _Kalandra_ some hours earlier and had arranged with the other doctor that he would send his results when and if he found anything. Everything he was doing now was occupying the rest of the evening in a somewhat meaningful way.

He scolded himself for having fallen asleep during work, though the lack of sleep during all those past weeks seemed to finally lay its claim on him.

Gingerly he wiped the rest of the tears away with his uniform sleeve, perplexed about the unexpected reaction of his own body, wondering how long it had been since he'd actually cried. He didn't want anybody to see him in his present condition and draw wrong conclusions. No matter how depressing and frightening the dream might have been, it really was no reason to burst into tears; not for him anyway.

How often had he found himself in situations much worse than the darkness and loneliness of that dream. Four years ago he'd almost been executed in the most cruel way one could think of. Last year he'd spent five weeks in a Dominion prison camp, had been kidnapped without his knowledge by Section 31 and had been betrayed by everyone he once had trusted and believed in. No, he set no great store by repeating these experiences and he couldn't even say it had been easy to cope with those events but in the end he had somehow managed to overcome the fear. Those experiences were nothing more than dark, unpleasant memories in the depth of his mind and even the dreams would soon be not even this.

But still – something about the dreams kept scaring him. It was not so much what he saw in those dreams but more the feelings they managed to stir up deep within him. He didn't know where they came from – he didn't even now what they were about – but somehow they managed to shake him more than everything else that had happened during the past years.

Entering the adjacent bathroom next to the infirmary's main room, his reflection in the small mirror above the sink didn't actually betray too much of what he'd experienced only a few minutes earlier. He put his face under the cold water, longer than usual, but still the memories were hard ones to banish. Having rubbed his face dry, he made his way back to the main room, stopping hesitantly. Perhaps he was just overtired? Perhaps this depressing feeling of fear would subside if he finally granted his body the time it needed to recover from the over exhaustion he had been carrying with him for the past weeks?

Unsure, he glanced back toward the blinking console where the computer had already ended the polypeptide comparison and placed the results onto the main display, waiting patiently for new instructions. It wasn't easy for Julian to turn his back on unfinished work but he didn't have much choice, did he?

Turing off the console with a heavy sigh, he grabbed the report nurse Lamara had given him some hours ago. Even if he'd already decided to let his work rest for at least this evening, he couldn't leave his infirmary unattended and so he waited for the night-shift nurse before he set the PADD aside and left the infirmary with a last checking look around.

* * *

><p>Stepping out onto the almost deserted promenade, he could feel the tension of the past hours starting gradually to subside. Massaging his stiff neck, he stifled a yawn, about to turn his back on what had kept him busy for much too long.<p>

"Julian, there you are!" Emerging out of the busy bustle of the Ferengi bar, Julian saw O'Brien hurrying over to him, a big smile on his face.

"Miles?" Bashir wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what the good mood the chief was apparently in was due to. About to form an excuse to turn down whatever favor the chief was going to ask him, he didn't have the chance to voice his protests, when O'Brien gently but decisively grabbed his shoulders. Directing him toward Quark's, the Irishmen grinned mischievously: "I was just about to call you, Julian. You'll miss the best part! We had some sort of small, spontaneous get-together in Quark's. I thought you might want to join us." Despite his choice of words, Julian knew that O'Brien had no intention of giving him any chance of stealing himself away to his quarters just to continue his brooding over whatever had kept the young doctor busy during all those past hours.

"A get-together?" Julian asked sceptically. He wasn't in the least in the mood for parties and to be honest, the only thing he wanted to do right now was return to his quarters as quickly as possible – for this was the reason he had quit work earlier in the first place.

O'Brien just offered a conciliatory smile, steering the young man through the round door of the Ferengi bar. The place was crowded as usual, the air filled with joy and laughter from a small group gathered around the spinning dabo wheel.

"Julian!" Noticing the two men enter, Dax lifted her hand with a broad smile, waving them over. The rest of the senior staff was also present: Odo was sitting next to Kira and Dax at one of the higher tables directly next to the well-visited dabo wheel, Captain Sisko standing a bit nearer to the bar, where Quark was busy serving drinks to his guests. As always, the middle of the long bar was occupied by Morn. Next to him was Nog, who seemed to enjoy the small meeting with a broad grin plastered about his face. Even Rom was sitting some distance down from Morn and trying hard not to let his obvious eavesdropping show, making Julian wonder, if the gathering was truly just as spontaneous as the chief had said or if it was rather one of those lucky coincidences he'd experienced this afternoon in the docking ring. Worf had taken place next to Sisko and in the middle of it all sat Captain Evans; the same good natured smile on his lips like the first time Julian had seen him step out of the airlock.

"Ah, Doctor Bashir, nice to see you," Evans said, offering his hand to the newcomer. Reluctantly the young man took it, noting that the captain's handshake was no less firm than his overall appearance would suggest. "I'm glad that you found the time to join us. I've heard a lot about you."

"We've just been talking about you, Julian," Miles explained with a wry, awkward grin. "And about our little match back when I built the racquetball court some years ago…" O'Brien let the rest of the sentence trail off, casting Bashir a significant look.

Julian nodded with hesitation. "I remember."

"Perhaps it might interest you that Captain Evans here is an ardent player as well," Sisko pointed out.

_Is there anything he hasn't been or hasn't done?_ Julian thought with slight irritation, though he tried to push the small feeling of jealousy away. "Oh, nice to hear that. Did you play at the academy, Captain?"

The older man seemed to be delighted with Bashir's interest. "Yeah, it's been some time since I last had the chance to play - but I played a lot at the academy. I guess I wasn't all that bad in those days. I even managed to become champion of our sector."

"Our Julian here was captain of the Starfleet Medical Academy racquetball team, sector champion in his year of graduation," Dax remarked beaming, laying one hand teasingly on Julian's shoulder which earned her a reproachful look from the young man.

"I see. What do you think about a short match before our departure for Zenahr?" Evans arched one brow.

No matter how tired he was, the prospect of a new match of racquetball really was tempting. Julian couldn't recall how long it had been since he'd last played. More so because O'Brien had soon become weary of the game and the constant defeats and Julian was now lacking of a partner for the game. Granted, there were other players on the station but none of them was even close to a challenge. The prospect of playing against the famous Federation hero Evans was something that managed to slightly lift Julian's mood.

"That sounds good," Bashir agreed, "I'm looking forward to it."

Evans seemed pleased with Bashir's spontaneous agreement. "Good to hear that!" While Julian took place at a table next to Dax, O'Brien focused his attention back on Captain Evans.

"I know, Sir, you've probably been asked this question about a hundred times already but… how did you manage to escape the Telarian militia during the conflict on Thelo Prime?"

Evan's mouth twisted into a swift smile when he reached out for his drink. "That's a long story," he laughed in a sonorous voice.

"I don't think there's anybody here who has another fish to fry," Sisko suggested with an arched brow, eager to hear what Evans had to say.

Reluctantly, the older captain nodded. "Very well. I see I'm outvoted."

"It was during the second half of the war, at the time when the Wara had still a weak alliance with the Ingethi. I was first officer on the _Wisconsin_ and my mission was to escort the leader of the Wara accompanied by a small group of local soldiers to the make-shift fleet headquarters in the east. At that time, the war was still at its peak and as some of you may know, most of the fighting took place on Thelo Prime. I was entrusted with seeing to the safety of the Wara's leader and ensuring safe passage to headquarters. Well, to be honest, at first I was absolutely fascinated about being in command of such important a mission but it soon proved out not to be the adventure I had actually figured."

Evans paused, taking another sip from the liquor when his face suddenly fell somber and stern. "In fact, my mission merely consisted of accompanying a high-security transporter which was so well guarded that it didn't even need further protection from any foot soldiers. At least not under normal circumstances. But within a moment's notice and completely without forewarning, I found myself in the midst of fighting. Our transporter was attacked in an ambush we'd never reckoned with. Most of the men died in the attack but I somehow managed to get the leader of the Wara and take him into the nearby woods. I don't know how we finally made it out of the ambush alive and I only recall knowing exactly how important it was to get the both of us to our original destination. The very outcome of the war was depending on whether the leader of the Wara made it unharmed and in time to the headquarters, and there was no one else to do the job."

"Perhaps the whole affair wouldn't have been that difficult if the Thelarian militia had not deployed troops to find us immediately after the onslaught had been carried out. Contacting the ship was impossible, so I was completely on my own. It happened about the fourth day after the incident that a disruptor bolt streaked by only a few meters above my very head. I instantly knew that it had to be the Thelarian militia and I also knew that we had no chance of surviving if we kept dwelling on open ground. After I'd overcome the initial shock, we drew back into one of the many caves lining the edge of the Sander-plateau – the very area we had to pass. The tunnel system was very complex, leading us after many twists and turns back toward the surface, to a place about 100 meters above our original position. Honestly, it was just pure luck that the number of our attackers was comparatively small. I used the element of surprise and fired into the bunch of men on the ground…"

Evans fell silent for a moment but his eyes betrayed one thing above all: sadness. "Of course, nobody survived the attack – but it was wartime and if it hadn't been me to act first, it would have been me who went to glory. After the incident it took us only a few more hours to reach the safety of the Wara headquarters."

"An impressive accomplishment," Sisko said as he absently ran his hand over his beard.

"Thank you, Captain Sisko. However, I wouldn't consider it a glorious deed."

O'Brien eyed him in disbelief. "Sir, with all due respect, I've fought on the Cardassian front myself, I know how hard it is to act in situations like this. What you accomplished with your mission abbreviated the war dramatically. Like it or not, you're a hero."

Chuckling, Evans flashed an ironic smile. "Thank you, Mr. O'Brien, but I think that's a bit too much of an honor."

Dax cast a significant look toward Evans. "I don't think the Chief is exaggerating, Captain. You're a legend," she smiled.

Sighing in mock resignation, Evans simply shrugged. "If you say so, Commander."

"Is it true, that you got your own command after the end of the war?" Nog asked impatiently – hardly able to conceal his enthusiasm.

"Yes, Ensign, that's true. It was a ship of the Galaxy-class: the _Columbus_." It was hard not to hear the pride in Evans' voice, as it was hard not to notice the sudden sparkle in his dark eyes.

"But... you weren't even thirty then." Nog couldn't hide his admiration as he kept watching the man in their midst reverently. If there was anybody worth being taken as a the ideal of a Starfleet officer than it was doubtlessly someone like Evans.

"And that makes you a more than ordinary man in Starfleet." Dax lifted her own glass. "To the success of our mission and one of Starfleet's best captains… apart from Benjamin of course," she added beaming, winking at her close friend.

Following her example, the others responded to the toast. Even Julian couldn't but lift his own glass. Even though he didn't feel in the least like celebrating, he just couldn't help being impressed by Evan's extraordinary charm. He couldn't describe it clearly, but Evans had something about him, such an aura of strong character and power of persuasion not many others shared with him. Julian involuntary thought that he had to revise his opinion about Evans. The man _was_ brilliant. Even though Julian had belittled O'Brien's description as mere enthusiasm, the Chief had been right. The Captain Evans who was now sitting in front of him was the same man out of the stories – the _Federation hero _Evans.

Although Bashir was still tired and groggy, he couldn't bring himself to leave their little circle as soon as he had originally intended to. Even though he didn't like to admit it, the stories Evans had to tell were daring and fascinating, helping in some way to leave the bitter reality of the present war behind. He didn't know how long it had been since he had last felt this comfortable.

As time went by and Quark kept delivering drinks in a highly happy mood, most of the guests started gradually to call it a night. When even O'Brien – the last senior staff officer apart from Bashir – reluctantly gave in to his own tiredness, Bashir and the Captain remained sitting alone at the counter of Quark's bar.

"Is there anything I can bring the gentlemen? Perhaps an Aldorian brandy for the night?"

Grimacing, Bashir shook his head. "No thanks, Quark."

"Nothing for me," Evans said. "Tomorrow'll be quite tough." He turned to Bashir. "Getting back to our initial conversation: Have you played much recently?"

Bashir was surprised. "Racquetball?" And in an afterthought he added: "No, Chief O'Brien lost his interest in the game and to be honest, there aren't many racquetball players left on the station."

"That's a pity. You know, I think it's been years since the last time I played. The _Columbus_ didn't have many players either and to tell the truth, I just didn't have much time in those days, anyway. However, I'm looking forward to playing against the sector champion of Starfleet Medical."

Julian smiled wryly. "Well, I guess it'll be one of the more interesting matches."

Laughing, Evans lifted his drink. "I wouldn't be that sure if I were you. You're at least half as young as I am so you've got the advantage of youth." Then he became serious again. "Which doesn't mean that I'll indulge you. How about tomorrow morning?"

Bashir nodded. "Good. 1100 hours?"

"Whenever you like. So 1100 hours then." Evans drained his cup with one gulp before placing it down on the counter. "I think we really should call it a night, Doctor. I'm sure it's also been quite a day for you."

"Well… actually no more exhausting than usual. But you're right. It really is late."

When Evans and Bashir had drawn themselves up, Quark came with his small brown tray, retrieving the last glasses to be disposed of in the recylcer. "Good night, Mr. Quark," Evans nodded, heading for the exit and with a last look toward Julian he added: "Don't forget, Dr. Bashir, 1100 hours tomorrow morning!"

"An officer and gentleman," Quark sighed before he turned and went to dispose of the drinks.

* * *

><p>He didn't know what to do.<p>

Indecisively, he stood in the middle of his quarters, absently staring into the black emptiness of the viewport, his gaze fixed upon one of the many white points of light that kept slowly and almost unremarkably streaking by. It was already past midnight, a time when the station lost most of its usual liveliness. On the way to his quarters he hadn't met but a few technicians of the night shift but even that had been quite a while ago. He could go back to the infirmary and struggle through the many and endless reports waiting for his attention. Dr. Morgan was still waiting for a diagnosis as soon as possible, anyway, making Julian feel guilty for neglecting his medical duty. He should have stayed back in the infirmary and ended his work instead of spending the evening with Evans and the others…

But he knew that he demanded too much of himself. Sometimes he just needed to relax and sometimes an evening among friends was not as meaningless as he often thought. Being honest with himself, he hadn't been any less impressed by the new captain than his comrades.

"Computer, what time is it?"

"It's 0300 hours," the computer voice broke the silence.

Stifling a yawn, Julian combed his fingers through his hair. In four hours his shift began, hardly enough time to get some rest – and he didn't know if he wanted to, anyway. Sighing he went over to the couch, dropping himself down with a soft groan. Laying his feet onto the table, he closed his eyes, leaned his head back and tried to get his sleepiness under control. After a time which seemed almost endless to him he concentrated all his remaining strength and sat up again.

When there was one thing he knew, it was, that right now the last thing he wanted to do was sleep. No, he didn't want to _dream._ Last night's nightmare and the one he'd had in the infirmary earlier this evening were still enough to make a cold shiver run down his spine. No matter how tired he was – being awake seemed to be the lesser evil.

Restlessly he stood up, heading for the replicator. "Tarkalean tea."

He watched the faint sparkling coalesce into solid atoms until finally a black cup of tea materialized in front of him. Gingerly reaching out for it, he retrieved the heavy, steaming cup and went back to the couch. With the PADDs he took out of the drawer – reports and files, a recently published article about the medical conference on Casperia, articles about tennis and a PADD including the last story of Cardassian literature he'd borrowed from Garak – he leaned back, grabbing randomly for one of the small devices. In four hours his shift would begin. It shouldn't be too hard to pass the time until then.


	4. Chapter 4

**- Chapter 4 -**

_Slowly, he traced the figures' silhouettes, carefully and to his best ability._

_The sky above was bright and clear, stretching out far beyond the horizon. The air was warm and filled with the sweet scent of a gentle summer breeze. Fluffy white clouds made their way across the blue sky, billowing and changing their shape in the course of their meanderings. The sun was still high, the blue of the sky almost fading into white around its blurring edges._

_A group of trees towered in the distance, their leaves swaying gently to and fro. A bird that had built its nest in the upper branches looked down curiously from above, its twitter a high-pitched sound carried away by the faint breeze._

_Flowers in a multitude of colors, from red to blue to yellow and white were speckled across the thick green grass that covered the ground. Their petals ragged, their middles dotted with little black spots, the carpet of flowers blanketed the ground as far as the eye could see. _

_A clear creek wound its way through the scenery, both sides of its banks lined with stones and thick tufts of fern. He had collected some of the gray pebbles in the sand earlier, keeping them hidden in his pocket. He'd even found some bigger stones, with curious white and purple lines all over them. Perhaps he'd come back later, to see what other wonders there were to discover._

_From somewhere above, a raven's croaking filled the air. Hiding somewhere in the sea of leaves, it kept out of sight but continued croaking nosily._

_Sitting on the green grass, embraced by the warm, soft sun rays, there were also human figures. One of them tall and slender, her green dress blending well with the green that surrounded her. The other figure was standing next to the first one. Clad in brown trousers, with little pockets on both sides, the figure's blue shirt was of the same blue as the heaven above. Both had their hands up, waving cheerfully._

_He wanted to run over to them. _

_Starting in their direction, he stumbled through the knee-high grass, his smile widening with anticipation. He could see them not far away, just beyond the small creek, on the other side of the meadow. _

_Running along the river bank, he didn't make it far though, when all of a sudden both figures vanished in the blink of an eye. Perplexed, he stopped. Looking around and turning in circles, he let his eyes wander about the scenery but no matter how hard he tried he wasn't able to find them. It was as if earth herself had swallowed them up before his very eyes. He could still hear the sound of the small creek, flowing sluggishly next to him. Even the raven was still croaking in its hoarse voice. The grass was still swaying in the faint summer breeze. But suddenly he knew that there was something else. Something behind him..._

_He wanted to turn round, to see what it was that was approaching from behind, though his legs wouldn't obey. No matter how hard he drew and yanked at them, it was as if they were stuck deep down in mud, making it impossible for him to move. Desperately trying to free himself, he felt something cool touch his neck, making him involuntarily draw in a sharp breath of fear._

_Then he was running. _

_He cried out, lashed out and fell forward onto the cold damp ground. In an instant he realized that the grass had vanished, as had the sky. There was no creek any longer, no trees, no birds. He instinctively rolled over onto his back, but lifting his gaze to where only minutes before had been the vast and endless sky, there was now only a huge, black shadow, threatening to bury him deep under its dark wings._

_His frightened scream was drowned by the black mass that instantly came collapsing down onto him._

* * *

><p>"What do you think, Chief? How much time will the installation of the phase modulation coils take?"<p>

Cocking up his head in surprise about the unexpected voice, O'Brien immediately bumped into the metal strut above. Dropping the scanner to the ground and cursing under his breath, he put one hand to his throbbing forehead, feeling for what surely was already about to change into a nice violet bruise. Freeing himself from the bundle of EPS cables spread across his chest and covering him like the tentacles of a giant alien octopus, he laboriously shoved himself out of the tube beneath the console. The first thing that came into his view from his vantage on the ground was the tall figure of Captain Sisko towering over him, and a group of technicians bustling about the small engine room of the _Defiant_ behind.

"I'm not quite sure, Sir, but I don't think it'll take more than three days," he offered reluctantly. Shoving himself completely out of the tube and dragging himself up into an upright position, he shot a short look back toward the circuitry he'd been grappling with for the last few hours.

"The coils Captain Evans brought with him from the Federation are of very high quality," O'Brien offered, hoping for Sisko to explain the unexpectedly good condition the coils were in. When the captain kept silent, though, O'Brien ran a hand over his tired eyes, blinking several times to readjust them to the bright light of the engine room.

He had thought so. That was always the problem with Starfleet Intelligence. You got the necessary information you needed – and had to do with it. No explanations, no additional comments. Shaking his head, he sighed.

"Well, no matter where those coils are from, Starfleet has spared us many problems."

"Problems?" Sisko arched one brow, obviously curious about the chief's remark.

"Let's put it this way, Sir: The better the coil, the easier the installation. The components Captain Evans has brought with him from Starfleet Headquarters are of such high quality I have never seen before...I don't know how they managed to lay their hands on parts like this but it surely makes a lot of things easier. Perhaps I'll get the installation done in two days, but I can't promise."

Sisko nodded "Good. I'll leave it to you, Chief. If there are any problems, just let me know."

"Aye, Sir," O'Brien replied. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready, Chief."

O'Brien put the phase scanner back into the holding device of the technical suitcase, retrieving another one of his instruments from the inside which gave off a faint hum as soon as he turned it on.

"Before I can start with the installation, I have to readjust the EPS power relay systems. That'll take some time. But the actual difficulty is in reconfiguring the computer settings…"

O'Brien was already about to crawl back into the tube under the console when a faint hiss announced yet another visitor to the _Defiant's_ engine room. Surprised about the sudden guest, Sisko involuntarily turned. The figure making his way casually toward both of them was clad in wide sports trousers, a white shirt tucked loosely into them. Not used to the informal dressing of the man on the other side of the room, it took Sisko some seconds to catch up with the situation.

"Captain Evans!" he said in astonishment. "I see you've already found your way to the _Defiant_."

Evans came sauntering over, looking around with interest. Stopping in front of the younger captain, he let his gaze wander once again about the place until he finally faced Sisko. "To tell the truth, I was just curious. I've heard a lot about the _Defiant_ – and all her adventures so far. She's a fantastic ship. I just had to see her with my own eyes." He grinned like a small boy. "Besides, I just wanted to stop by and say hello in case there are any difficulties with the installation. Major Kira told me where to find you. Just in case you need any help."

"Not so far, Sir," came the faraway voice of O'Brien from out of the tube. "It couldn't be better."

Sisko curiously indicated the gray sport bag Evans had slung over his shoulder. "Let me guess, a match of racquetball?"

Readjusting the strap of the bag, Evans nodded. "I promised Dr. Bashir to give him a match."

"I see," Sisko said. "I'm glad you found a new partner for the game."

"As am I, believe me, Captain Sisko. It's been quite a while since I last played. And your doctor seems to be quite a challenge. A good chance to see how fit I really am," the older captain chuckled. "I guess I had better go. However, if there are any problems, you know where to find me." With a last assessing look around, Evans excused himself and headed for the exit.

Shortly after he had left, O'Brien's worried face reappeared from beneath the console. "Captain…" he hesitated, "does he know that Julian is…"

"…genetically enhanced?" Sisko ended the chief's question. O'Brien only nodded.

"I guess no, but he'll find out soon anyway." Smiling to himself, he shook his head. "Go on, Chief, and keep me up to date."

* * *

><p>When Evans reached the designated room the station's computer had indicated as the racquetball court, he involuntarily hesitated. Once again he absently readjusted the strap of his sport bag in which lay – carefully wrapped – the old, gray metal racket he hadn't used for some years now. Racquetball was one of those sports he had never lost interest in, no matter how long it was since he'd last had the chance to play. After all these years he could still vividly recall the final match of the sector championship, could recall the heat of the hall, the excitement he had felt in the face of the imminent match, the cool hilt of the racket. On board the <em>Wisconsin<em> or the _Columbus_ he hadn't often had the chance to show his actual talent. Only on Atholes III – even if it hadn't been often but at least once in a while – had he had the chance to compete with other players.

Evans sighed. Had it already been this long since those days? Where had the time gone? Looking back now, it seemed to him like another lifetime...

They had met once a month at the sports grounds next to the town hall. The racquetball court hadn't been very big and the number of players had always been very limited but it had been the fun that had counted. He had always enjoyed those meetings till… well, till his life on Atholes III had come to an end. He had never imagined that he would feel this way again, but standing now in front of the gray metal doors behind which a true challenger was awaiting him, he felt a surge of adrenaline rush through his veins.

The moment he stepped in front of the door, it parted with a faint hiss, revealing the sight of the court behind. The walls were all black with a variety of red crosses scattered over their surfaces. The sight made him feel a tinge of melancholy. Squaring his shoulders he entered.

The first thing to draw his attention was the unmoving figure with his white-gray track suit, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. Obviously unaware of his presence, the man kept staring absently onto the ground in front of him.

"Dr. Bashir?"

The man startled. Turning his gaze into Evan's direction, he hastily staggered to his feet. Smiling, Evans tried to apologize for his sudden appearance. "Sorry for having kept you waiting."

Dredging himself up, Bashir dismissively raised his hands. "Ah, no problem, Captain."

He seemed tired – even worn. His face was unnaturally pale, and his eyes were missing the mischievous sparkle he had seen there yesterday's evening at Quark's. Julian hardly succeeded in hiding his groggy and exhausted expression, even though he obviously tried hard not to meet the captain's eyes.

"You all right, Doctor?" Evens asked in concern.

"Ah, yes," Julian said almost too quickly. "I just didn't have a very good night, that's all. I guess I had one or two drinks too many." He tried to flash a sheepish grin, taking position at the far end of the room.

"I see," Evans replied dryly. "You're sure you want to play? We can make it another day, if you like. There's still plenty of time until our departure."

Wiping his sweaty palms against his trousers, Bashir shook his head. "No, today is fine with me, Captain."

Evans grimaced. "Please call me Robert."

Julian tried to force on a smile. "Julian," he offered at length.

Evans dropped his bag onto the ground, opened it and gently retrieved the wrapped racket that had been hidden inside. Holding it reverently in front of himself, he smiled. "My first racket, back at the academy. I've always taken good care of it. I hope it won't let me down now."

Bashir tightened the grip around his own racket. "Old or new rules?"

"The old ones of course," Evans replied nonchalantly, positioning himself next to the young man.

Julian was the first to serve. He quickly threw the ball high into the air and batted it with full-force. The ball hit the bulkhead square on, bouncing off in Evans' direction, making the older captain dash forward in response. However, Evans had quite a difficult time to parry. The ball only slightly touched his racket and bounced off in the wrong direction, landing in the far right corner behind the two men.

"Not bad, Julian," Evans arched one brow.

Next it was Evans' turn, but it didn't take too long till the ball was once again rolling on the floor. Again, Bashir had done the decisive hit. They kept playing over more than an hour, most of the matches won by the young doctor which didn't overly disturb Evans. It was not until he suddenly bent over after the last strike that Bashir came hurrying over to him in alarm, kneeling down next to him.

"Are you alright, Sir?" The young doctor asked with a frown, the concentrated look with which he examined Evans clearly giving away that he was most likely already running a mental diagnosis on Evan's condition.

"I could ask you the same, Julian." When Evans saw Julian's confused and slightly startled look, he gestured for the young man to sit down as well. Reluctantly, Bashir obeyed, letting himself drop down to the floor next to Evans.

"I'm… just a bit tired…," Bashir defended himself warily.

"Yeah, that might be, but you know, you play like hell," Evans laughed. It was a warm laughter, full of sympathy.

"Sir?"

"You play as if life itself depends on it. I don't know what exactly is bothering you, but it's reflected in your way of playing," he tried to elaborate. "You play very aggressively. It can't tell if it's your normal style but I think there's another reason for it. Forgive me my directness, Doctor, but you don't even look very well. Is everything okay?" Evans was studying him in concern.

Averting his gaze, Julian kept silent for a moment, obviously pondering Evans' question – and his answer to it. "It's nothing important, really," the young man finally said with a faraway look. Searching for words, he drew a long breath, shaking his head in resignation. "It's just that recent times haven't been the best for the Federation. Every day brings news about new defeat. And an end to the war against the Dominion is nowhere in sight. Every day makes you think it can't get any worse – and every next day when you wake up you realize that you had been wrong..."

Evans nodded. "Nightmares?"

Bashir's head cocked up in surprise, and Evans knew he had hit the mark. Directing his gaze at the far wall opposite them, he sighed: "I though so. After all that has happened in the last months it's not a surprise. I guess it's only natural – and inevitable for everyone with a conscience, anyway."

When the younger man kept silent, Evans continued: "I know how disturbing these kind of things can be. I often have nightmares myself. Dreams from the Telarian Wars, from fears during the course of my career. You wouldn't believe how imaginative a human mind can be..." He turned his attention back to Bashir. "It's easy to say for me but … just try not to let yourself get dragged down too much. It all might seem hopeless now but tomorrow is another day." Smiling sympathetically, he patted the young man encouragingly on the back. "Just try to concentrate on what's lying ahead. That helps."

About to form a reply, Bashir didn't have the chance to respond when Evans' combadge signaled. "Major Kira to Captain Evans."

The older captain hesitated a moment, then reluctantly answered the call. "Evans here, go ahead Major."

"We're receiving an incoming transmission from Starfleet Headquarters. It's from Admiral Nevall, Sir. And it's your eyes only."

Evans shot an apologetic look toward the young man next to him. "Acknowledged. Put him through to my quarters. I'll be there in five minutes. Evans out."

"I'm sorry, Julian. I hope you don't mind," he grimaced, dredging himself up from the floor. Waiting for Bashir to follow, he brushed the dust from his trousers. "Nevertheless it was a pleasure playing with you. Even if I wish I was your age again," he said with a smirk.

A weary smile crept across Julian's features. "As it was for me. I have to say that I'm quite impressed by your skill, Captain."

Evans retrieved the racket from the ground, gently wrapped it into the white linen cloth and put it carefully back into the gray sports bag, still leaning in one corner of the court. "Thank you, Julian. I try to keep in shape, after all. Only because age is claiming its tribute doesn't mean I'll surrender that easily," he said with a wink.

"What about another match before we leave?"

Nodding, Julian followed the captain out into the corridor. "Just tell me when and I'll be there."

* * *

><p>As soon as he heard the faint hiss of the closing door behind him, Julian let his head drop weakly back against the bulkhead. Feeling his scantily gathered energy seep away in an instant, he desperately rubbed at his closed eyes, unable to get the whirl of images and feelings under control. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't able to banish the memories of the nightmare from his mind.<p>

He didn't know what they meant, nor did he know where they came from, though he was beginning to suspect that the dreams had to be more than just pure coincidence. And he started to doubt that the war against the Dominion and the Founders was the trigger for those dark dreams of late.

He had dreamed again. This morning he had woken to his own cry when he had thought he'd been buried under an all-surrounding blackness. It had taken him longer than before to convince himself that everything had just been a bad dream. And still, even hours later the images of the dream kept lingering in some remote corner of his mind, only waiting for the right moment to come flooding back into his consciousness again. No matter how hard he tried to forget them, he just wasn't able to think of anything else but what he had see in the depths of sleep.

After he had woken, he felt as if he hadn't slept at all. Moreover, he had problems organizing his own thoughts. Even several minutes after waking, he hadn't been able to tear his gaze away from the imaginary blackness on the far end of the couch. He had kept staring numbly in front of himself until the realization of where he was and what he was actually doing had finally hit him. Julian hadn't felt up to meeting with Evans as promised, but had he remained all alone in his quarters he most probably wouldn't have been able to form any other coherent thought at all. He had needed distance, something to distract himself. And he had thought that after his match with Evans he would feel better. But he had been wrong. The memory of the nightmare was clearer than before and hadn't let go of him a single second during the game. He hadn't been too surprised that Evans had noticed, even though his presumption concerning the war hadn't been quite right...

Sighing, he drew in a deep breath. If it was not the war causing the nightmares, what was? He didn't know. And he wasn't sure if he even wanted to know. The only thing he definitely knew was, that he was afraid of them. Every night the uneasy feeling in his stomach grew, making a cold shiver run down his spine at the mere thought of what would be waiting for him in sleep. He couldn't even tell what was making him dread those dreams so much that the rational part of his mind was deafened by an overwhelming instinct telling him to run for his life. If it just were this easy...

Reluctantly opening his eyes, he made a decision.

He wouldn't sleep any more. Not as he had intended to last night. No, he wouldn't give his mind any chance to elaborate on the nightmares. He knew that it was senseless. He knew very well that sooner or later his body needed rest. He didn't even need to be a doctor to tell that no human being was able to elude sleep forever.

But in this very moment he didn't care. He didn't know what else to do. As long as he was able to will himself to stay awake, he would not have to face whatever it was that was looming and waiting for him in the dreams. No sleep meant no nightmares and that was all that counted for him right now...

* * *

><p>"I'm worried about the intensified patrols along the the Cardassian border."<p>

"You mean, the Cardassians are up to something?" Kira's skeptical expression clearly showed the inner restlessness she'd been feeling ever since the captain had called her to his office some minutes earlier.

Sisko shook his head. Standing next to the black desk in his office, he absently ran two fingers over the even glass surface. "If I knew for sure, I'd feel much better. It's a hard decision to leave the station in such difficult times."

"I see," Kira said in strained tones. "That means you want to cancel the mission?"

"I don't think it's that easy, Major," Odo interrupted skeptically.

"I don't mean to cancel the mission just because of a simple presumption, at all. But I'll contact Starfleet as soon as possible. To the best of my recollection, the _Hellas_ is only a few days away from the station, in the Argus Sector. She could arrive here only a couple of hours after our departure."

"That would be a great advantage for the station's security," Kira agreed absently. Absorbed in her own thoughts, she crossed her arms defensively.

"It's not as if the station is without protection during the _Defiant_'s absence. That is – if there is an enemy attack at all. So far we have nothing but pure speculation and no firm evidence for any unusual Cardassian activity," Sisko tried to calm his officers.

Leaning back with a short sigh on the couch of the captain's office, Kira's mood dropped remarkably. "Which doesn't mean they won't at least try something."

"Perhaps the intensified security along the border doesn't mean anything at all. I'm just not willing to take any unnecessary risks," the captain said slowly.

"Perhaps it would be a better idea if I stayed behind, taking care of DS9 while you're away, Captain," Kira suggested at length.

"I'm afraid we'll need you on Atholes III. I can't afford to leave you behind. Not with your experience and combat skill." The captain sighed, directing his attention to Odo. "That's also why I want you to stay back on the station, Constable. Just in case of an incident."

The Bajoran woman's head jerked up. Odo just nodded. He pretty much understood Sisko's reasoning.

"I'll leave OPS to Commander Tenner. He's a good strategist and I believe he can do the job well. But I also want you to keep a watchful eye on the situation, Constable. If there's anyone who is able to predict the actions of the Founders, it's you. I don't think anything will actually happen, but if there should be any sign of an invasion, I want you here to assist Commander Tenner."

Snorting under his breath, Odo shook his head. "I see. I'm not sure if I can be of much help, but I'll do my best..."

"Very well. If there should be any problems, the _Hellas_ will be at your side. I'll immediately inform Captain Wieland and Starfleet headquarters."

Even before the Constable was able to voice his concern, a sudden call interrupted their little briefing. "Captain, an Andorian freighter has just requested permission to dock. It's been involved in a battle with the Jem'Hadar and has sustained extensive damage. The ship's captain is reporting heavy casualties."

Even though the young Trill's voice was calm and controlled, Sisko could sense the underlying tone of resignation accompanying her few words. _Another __innocent__ ship.__ How__ many __were __to __follow__ until__ the__ war__ was __finally __ended?_

"Permission granted. Send a repair team to take care of the damage and inform Dr. Bashir. Beam the wounded directly into the infirmary; I'll be there in a minute. Sisko out."

Sisko saw the sadness in Kira's pale features. "Another proof that the Dominion doesn't differentiate between the enemy and civilians," she said bitterly before she followed the captain out into OPS.

* * *

><p>Hours after the first wounded of the Andorian freighter vessel had come in, Dr. Julian Bashir was standing in the middle of the room, letting his gaze wander across the crowded and messy infirmary.<p>

Although he had been able to stabilize most of the patients, some few had died. The blood – barely visible but there nonetheless – had already dried on his dark uniform, sticking to his sleeves and chest. He hadn't even had time to change; the desire to get into clean clothes now that the rush to the infirmary had subsided was growing ever stronger.

He put the dermal regenerator back onto the shelf, went over to one of his patients and studied the readouts of the little chart above the bed. The man's pulse was way too low, his respiration too shallow, but nevertheless he was alive. It still would take him a few days to recover completely, a small price considering the fact that many of his comrades hadn't survived the attack at all...

Almost entirely lost in his own thoughts, Bashir took the PADD he was offered by the night shift nurse. _Fifteen__ wounded__ and __eight __dead._ Thinking about it, the numbers of casualties were relatively low considering the fact that the small ship had sustained a remarkable amount of damage by the Jem'Hadar. But, as the freighter's crew didn't even comprise forty, the ship had suffered a great loss. The wounded would soon be fully healed, though what remained was the wound deep within their souls – another scar inflicted by the war.

"What about dinner?"

Startled, Julian whirled around, his thoughts all at once dragged back into reality. He hadn't even noticed someone enter.

"You look tired, Julian. What about dinner?" O'Brien repeated, trying to keep his voice low as if afraid of disturbing the patients' sleep. Readjusting the strap of his gray engineer bag, his questioning look met Julian's.

"I don't think we'll get a free place at the replimat this late and to be honest, I'd rather be alone…" Bashir stalled, assessing the bio readings of the next patient. It was a monotone action and absolutely superfluous for if the status of any of his patients worsened the computer would tell him in a second anyway. For Bashir, though, it was exactly the kind of work he needed. He still felt the chief's gaze on the back of his neck when he once again addressed his full attention to the bio console in front of him.

O'Brien didn't give up. "Okay, then in one hour in my quarters?"

Bashir's shoulders palpably hunched, the young man sighing tiredly. "I'm sorry, Miles, but I guess you've got to eat alone. I can't leave now."

The sudden touch on his forearm made him instinctively turn to his left. Nurse Lamara was standing at his side, her lips drawn into a gentle smile. "Don't worry, Doctor, I'll take care of them. And if there's the slightest change in anyone's condition, I'll let you know immediately," she said with a short beckoning toward the back part of the infirmary.

Already about to form a protest, Julian suddenly held back as he realized the sadness in her smile. Lamara was worried about him. And he couldn't blame her.

"Fine," Julian gave in at length, sighing in resignation. He obviously was outvoted.

"So see you in ten minutes in my quarters," the chief grinned encouragingly. "You won't regret it, trust me."

Shaking his head about the stubbornness of the Irishman, Julian couldn't help a smile. "You won't mind if I change first, will you?"

* * *

><p>Entering the O'Brien's quarters, Julian was almost immediately run over by the gray furball, shooting like an arrow toward him. Crashing into him with a low purr, the cat snuggled up against his legs, emitting a series of pleasant purrs and tapping in circles around the newcomer. Grinning, Julian bent down and gently stroke the O'Briens' cat. "Chester, long time no see."<p>

Glancing sideways, Julian swiftly scanned the room for the chief, though O'Brien was nowhere to be seen.

"Miles?"

"Just one moment!"

While Bashir settled himself on the couch, Chester kept following him, jumping up next to the young man with a soft mew. Curling up in his lap, the cat yawned and let his head drop sleepily on his paws. Only seconds later, O'Brien came back from the bedroom.

"I just changed…"

Spotting the gray cat in Bashir's lap, the Chief face drew into an angry grimace. "Oh no..." O'Brien exclaimed in dismay. "You treacherous cat! Keep away from our guest, will you!"

The last words obviously were meant to disturb the sleepy cat's rest, though Chester obviously didn't mind, just tapping slightly against Bashir's leg before he curled up again.

"He's ravaged the bedroom!" O'Brien grumbled as if in explanation.

Bashir couldn't help a mischievous smile. "The bedroom? How did he manage that?"

Shrugging, the chief snorted. "I'd like to know that myself. Don't you be too nice to him."

Julian shook his head. "Don't worry, I won't. Perhaps he's just bored."

"_Bored?_ And that should be a reason for behaving like a fury?"

"Perhaps he needs company?" the young man shrugged apologetically.

"Which he'll get. As soon as Keiko comes back with the kids." Walking over to the replicator, O'Brien turned his head in Julian's direction. "I wish Molly were here. She'd keep him busy and out of my sight," he grumbled. "What do you feel like?"

Julian opened his mouth in response but hesitated. "I... I don't think I'm hungry, Miles..." he held up both hands to decline.

"You'll have to regather some strength, Julian. Look at yourself, you look like a ghost! You look as if you haven't eaten or slept in days." O'Brien sounded honestly worried.

"Really, I..." Bashir started, though O'Brien had already turned to address the replicator. "Curry rice," he simply said.

"Curry...rice?" Bashir stared at the brown thick mass that started to materialize on two plates in front of the chief.

"Dear old curry rice," O'Brien retorted. "The kids love it. It's not as good as Keiko's but it'll have to do." Retrieving the two plates from the replicator, he briskly made his way to the dining table.

O'Brien could see the young man's still skeptical look.

"Even if it doesn't look like it, that's exactly what you need." And addressing again the replicator, he added: "And two cups of Raktajino."

"You know, Julian," the chief began in an exaggerated tone, "that's exactly the problem with you." Taking hold of both cups to bring them over to the table, he added: "You need a family. A family to look after you!"

"I don't know, Miles."

"Look at yourself. It always makes me wonder how you ever could become a doctor considering how poorly you take care of yourself."

Bashir just smiled. Even if he didn't feel like arguing with the chief right now, it somehow felt good to have someone around who cared. He laboriously drew himself up, stifling a yawn. Chester, stirred up by the sudden movement, leaped from his lap, padding idly away.

Bashir couldn't help a mischievous grin as he sat down on the table. He really couldn't say he was hungry, even if O'Brien tried to convince him that he should be. But he also knew that his friend was worried. If he was satisfied with seeing him eat, well, Julian would do it. He didn't feel in the least like telling anybody what had been bothering him for the last days, why he preferred staying awake all night rather than using the few hours to rest. If it distracted O'Brien from the actual problem, then Julian was willing to do him at least this small favor. Taking the spoon next to the plate, he sighed.

"I don't believe it!" O'Brien suddenly rumbled.

Startled, Julian lifted his gaze.

Chester stood with his front paws propped on the table, digging his nose into the brown stew on O'Brien's plate. The cat didn't even seem to notice the furious look on the chief's face – or the opportunity of the rare snack outweighed the impending thunderstorm that was already brewing on the horizon next to him.

With only a few steps the chief made it to the table, grabbing the cat rudely by the scruff of his neck. "I think that's enough for today, Chester! Believe me, you'll regret this," he scolded, already heading with the cat in his grip for the children's room.

He didn't make it far, though.

Bashir – who had recovered from his initial shock – suddenly jumped up from the table, catching up with O'Brien even before he had made it to the threshold to the other room. With a quick but well-aimed grip he all at once seized the chief's free arm, jerking him violently around to face him. "STOP IT!" The young man yelled, his face drawn into a furious scowl.

"Julian?"

Too surprised about Bashir's sudden and unexpected behavior, O'Brien involuntarily let the cat drop from his grip. While Chester leaped away the very instant he landed on the floor, the chief couldn't help staring incredulously at the young doctor – then at his hand that still firmly held his arm. He had never before seen Julian this angry and out of control…

Even before he could say anything, Julian's mind seemed to catch up on the situation – on what he had just done. Yanking his hand back, his face drew into yet another grimace of open shock and trepidation, his eyes widening ever farther as he kept staring disbelievingly at the chief. He couldn't bring forth a single word – even if he wanted.

"Julian, you all right?" O'Brien tried, highly alarmed. It just wasn't like Julian to loose his temper like this.

Almost impalpably shaking his head, the young man's face had lost every bit of color. Staring numbly at his own hands, he kept stumbling backwards. "I'm… sorry, Miles," he whispered under his breath before he suddenly spun around and dashed out of the room.

"Julian! Wait!"

Only a few seconds later, O'Brien made it into the corridor, scanning both directions for traces of Bashir, though the young man had already vanished. Sighing heavily, he was unsure what had prompted Julian's sudden behavior – least of all what it should mean. He started to tap his combadge, but hesitated. Perhaps Julian was just overtired and stressed. He had seen his startled expression when he'd realized what he'd done and he also knew for sure that he deeply regretted it. Letting his hand sink he couldn't but hope that Julian just needed some time to be alone. No matter how overly vehement the young man's reaction had been, it obviously had startled Julian no less than it had O'Brien. He'd have to have a talk with him tomorrow morning.

"Now look what you've done!" O'Brien scolded dryly when he entered his quarters and Chester came rushing over, nestling ruefully against his leg. Almost absentmindedly he bent down, stroking the cat's thick fur. "Julian must be quite fond of you…"


	5. Chapter 5

**- Chapter 5 -**

"Well then, if everyone is finally here, we can start now." Captain Sisko took a seat next to the head of the conference table, leaving the center to Captain Evans. Bracing himself on the back of the chair, the older captain waited for the last whispers to die down, intently taking in the half expectant, half anxious faces of the station's assembled senior staff.

"As it appears that the installation of the phase modulation coils can be completed earlier than we thought, I rescheduled this meeting for this morning," Evans began finally. "As far as Captain Sisko told me, you already have a vague idea about what will be waiting for us in a few days. I take it you've been already informed about how we'll reach Atholes III, and also that it will be our mission to rescue the crew of a Vulcan research vessel called _T'Hekal_ from the planet's surface. The ship was attacked by the Cardassians in the Zenahr system about one month ago. _T'Hekal_ as well as her crew have been reported missing ever since."

Evans cast a swift look toward the station's commanding officer, apparently waiting for a short confirmation to continue his explanation. "They already know the facts mentioned in the official report from Starfleet Intelligence…" Sisko offered without further comment.

The older captain nodded. That made things a lot easier. "Now, as you're already familiar with the essential facts, it's my job to elaborate on our mission on Atholes III," he said sternly, his formal tone underlining the seriousness of their meeting. With his squared shoulders, he all at once seemed more distant, his posture leaving no room for any doubt as to who was ultimately in charge of their mission. "After the _Defiant_ reaches the Zenahr system with the new phase modulation coils, we'll deploy foot troops onto the planet's surface. The Dominion weapons factory and cloning facility is situated in the immediate vicinity of a city called "Northport" in the east of the northern continent. Northport was once a Starfleet colony, the place where the official headquarters for coordination and administration of the colonization program for Atholes III were situated. Our plan is to divide into several smaller teams and deliver critical blows to the enemy when and where they least expect it."

"How big will those teams be, Sir?" O'Brien asked, his voice carrying a slight tint of worry. He had straightened in his seat, the former strategist in him intent on what Evans had to tell.

"That depends on the task of every unit." Evans went to the front side of the room and activated the black screen. After only a few seconds, the usual Starfleet logo popped up only to vanish a moment later, swiftly replaced by a detailed map of the city. Small red points were scattered across the map, indicating the particular positions where the single teams would carry out their missions. Apart from the numberless buildings and squares forming the actual city of Northport, there was another large shaded area at the western end of the town.

"When Atholes III was still a Starfleet colony, what you can see here had been an ore processing facility for some rare metal known as Kilarium. The ore body in this part of the continent was one reason for Starfleet to establish a permanent settlement where Northport is now." Evans indicated the gray area, stretching far into the mountains, covering about the seize of one-eighth of the whole city. "The ore processing facility was shut down over 25 years ago, when the settlers had to abandon the colony but for the Dominion it worked out to be more than convenient: They were able to use what was already there. They just had to transform it to suit their own purpose of a new cloning facility. Furthermore, as the whole complex is surrounded by a large mountain wall, it leaves only one way into the site. You have to use the main entrance gate to the east, making it almost impossible to sneak into the facility without anyone noticing."

"How lucky for them. That seems to make things a lot more difficult," Kira put in with furrowed brow. Evans nodded in acknowledgment but quickly held up one hand to prevent her from voicing the rest of her doubts.

"That's exactly why I'm going to accompany you on this mission, Major. I once lived in Northport myself and I daresay that I know the city by heart. Even if it might seem impregnable to you – the facility does have some weak spots. You only have to know where to look..."

"What's your plan, Captain?" Worf calmly considered the city's map as if he were able to fathom where the strategic weakness of the site lay by simply staring at it.

A slight smile fell upon the older captain's lips as he called up another map, offering a more detailed view of the city. "At first, we'll beam the away teams down to a spot farther south to the city, in the middle of the surrounding woods. We cannot beam any farther toward our target because of the transport scrambler they're using to protect the area. There'll be four teams, operating in tandem." Pausing for a short moment, Evans waited for the words to sink in before he went on.

"The members of each team have been selected upon a recommendation from Captain Sisko, as I haven't much experience with this crew yet. The first team will be formed by Chief O'Brien and Ensign Nog: It'll be your task to get into the facility's main reactor room and interrupt the security system that is guarding the complex. For that you'll use the ventilation conduit system. Once we have beamed down and reached the designated area, I'll show you were to find the entrance. As soon as the first team interrupts the security system, the second and third team will invade the complex. After that, the security system will be turned on again to prevent a premature detection by the enemy. Having fulfilled their mission, team one will withdraw and wait at the designated meeting coordinates."

Evans took a deep breath. "The second team consists of Captain Sisko and myself. Our mission will be to place explosive charges at three important spots inside the complex."

With a quick tab on the display, the ground plan of the former ore processing facility suddenly replaced the city's outlines. "This map shows the complex' interior structure of about 25 years ago. As the Dominion has overtaken the site only recently, we presume that the location won't be much different from what we're seeing here. The second team will place the explosive charges at three important spots: The reactor distribution junction, the connection to the main hall as well as at the access door to the open-air grounds where presumably the survivors of _T'Hekal_ are being held at the moment. Meanwhile the third team – led by Commander Worf and Major Kira – takes action. They'll accompany the second team inside the complex, but their main mission will be to free the prisoners."

Evans now turned his full attention to his crewmen. "This is the point when good timing is needed. The first bomb that'll detonate will be that at the access point to the open-air grounds, thus cutting off the prison camp from the main security grid. During the distraction caused by the first explosion, team three has to get the prisoners out of the complex and head toward the same coordinates team one will be already waiting at. That leaves two more explosive charges: The second bomb will be at the connection to the main hall, cutting off the Jem'Hadar from the main gate. They'll be trapped. The last bomb situated at the distribution reactor junction will then ensure that the entire facility goes to glory in a sparkling rain of fireworks."

O'Brien's frown deepened. "But what if the complex is secured by a security backup system, powering in as soon as the first one fails? I mean, a short interruption of the security grid won't be that difficult to accomplish, but what if the security backup system interferes after the first explosion?"

"In that case the two teams inside the complex as well as the prisoners would be trapped," Dax concluded matter-of-factly, one hand placed absently on her chin.

Evans held up both hands, shaking his head. "To prevent exactly this from happening will be the task of the fourth team. The security backup system is controlled from a control room outside the facility. Team four has to get to that control room and prevent the backup system from engaging. As this action has to take place only seconds after the first explosion of the bomb at the open-air grounds and immediately before the security backup system would power up, team four will be formed by Dr. Bashir and Commander Dax."

Everyone's attention was suddenly on the young doctor who still sat motionless at his place at the back part of the conference table. Even though he had held back from any remark during the meeting so far, he seemed to stiffen on Evans' words. "Do you think, you'll manage the correct timing, Dr. Bashir?" Evans asked.

Bashir's face didn't betray any emotions, though it was not until after a few seconds that he finally spoke. So Evans apparently knew about his genetically enhanced background – or at least he had been told by Sisko during their earlier meeting. For Evans it seemed nothing more than a routine question – for the success of their mission depended largely on Bashir's genetically enhanced abilities. Finally the young man nodded, not meeting the curious gazes of his comrades. "It'll be all right, Captain."

Evans' expression, too, remained tense. "You're absolutely sure, Doctor? We cannot take any risks."

"Very sure, Sir."

When Evans directed his attention back at the rest of the assembled crewmen, O'Brien couldn't help cast a concerned look toward Julian, though the young man didn't seem to notice. After what had happened yesterday's evening, O'Brien wasn't at all sure how much of an impact the captain's question had had on Julian. He knew how embarrassing it was for Julian to be confronted with the fact of his genetic enhancements; hearing the captain talk so openly about what had disturbed the young man for most of his life made him wonder how Julian must be feeling at this very moment. His gaze directed absently at the wall behind the elder captain, Bashir's face appeared as an unreadable mask though O'Brien thought he detected a slight shadow of sadness cross his friend's face.

"Very well then. So when team four managed to disable the security backup system, the security grid of the whole complex will be shut down. At that junction, teams two and three will take the prisoners and head for the designated meeting point. Team four will join them as soon as their job is finished. We'll all meet at the landing coordinates where the _Defiant_ will get us all up into safety. Any questions so far?"

"What if we're attacked by the Jem'Hadar during our mission?" Worf skeptically interjected, folding both arms across his heavy chest. His dark eyes were already shining in anticipation of the upcoming battle.

"Every team will be accompanied by a small number of security men whose job it'll be to ensure the team's safety. How many of them will be with each team depends on the mission of every unit. According to the reports of Starfleet Headquarters, the number of Jem'Hadar patrols should be comparatively low. As the construction of the new cloning facility is still ongoing, their main focus lies on getting ahead with their work. We don't reckon with too many soldiers in the streets of Northport."

"Sounds as if we just go in, get the prisoners and walk out again," Dax grinned.

"Well, that's how it's supposed to be if everything goes off without a hitch." Propping his elbows on the table, Sisko cast every one of them a stern look. "You won't have much time to think about it anyway. The _Defiant_ will leave tomorrow morning at 1000 hours. Until then, I expect you to pursue your normal duties." With a softer tone he added: "Get some rest. The next week will be anything but a child's play."

"Sounds great to me," the chief chuckled humorlessly, dredging himself up. "At least it's an attack – not a retreat."

"Thought you'd say that," Dax winked.

When the rest of the senior staff started to rise from their seats, Captain Sisko held up a hand, motioning for them to wait a second. Turning toward Evans, who still stood with his hands clasped behind his back next to the chair in front of the conference table, he added: "But before we leave, I all want you to be my guests for this evening." Smiling broadly, he opened his arms wide. "I expect everyone at about 2000 hours in my quarters for dinner. Dismissed." With those words he waited for his senior staff to rise from their seats before he turned to Evans to have some further discussion about the upcoming mission.

While Dax was obviously delighted with the prospect of another dinner with Benjamin and their colleagues, Worf seemed to be already musing upon what emergency would be considered acceptable to call him away in order not to have to take part in the little gathering, only reluctantly grumbling responses to Jadzia's happy chattering. Major Kira was talking animatedly with Odo, arguing over some points of the upcoming mission. Scanning the room for Bashir, O'Brien noticed that the young man had already made his way to the door. Quickly retrieving the small technical suitcase from the floor next to his seat, O'Brien hurried after him, excusing himself when he passed his commanding officers.

He had intended to talk to Julian about yesterday's incident first thing in the morning. Unfortunately the repairs of the _Defiant_ had kept him busy until the meeting had started. Julian had been palpably silent during the whole briefing and even seemed paler and more tense than usually. That Julian apparently was trying to avoid talking to him only made the uneasiness in his stomach grow.

"Julian!" When O'Brien finally caught up with Bashir in the corridor, his voice grew urgent. Involuntarily held back by the call of his name, the young man came to a reluctant stop, turning round to face him. His expression hovered somewhere between dismay and resignation. Even before the chief had the chance to speak up, Bashir had already anticipated his words.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, Miles. I know, I acted like a complete idiot. I don't know what was up with me…" he blurted out. "I… perhaps I'm just stressed. I'm sorry."

Shaking his head, the chief sighed. "Never mind, Julian. I know how hard those last days were on all of us. It's just... I mean..." searching for the right words, he grimaced but tried nevertheless: "I just wondered if everything is okay?" He knew that – whatever Bashir was keeping from him – he couldn't force the young man to tell him.

Julian's frown deepened. It wasn't as if he hadn't anticipated Julian's next words. "I'm absolutely fine, Miles. There's nothing wrong with me. Nothing that a few hours of sleep won't cure," Bashir retorted with slight irritation. "If you'll excuse me, Chief, I have some patients to attend to."

"See you at dinner tonight?"

Julian didn't respond, leaving O'Brien standing alone in the middle of the corridor. Watching the young man until he had vanished round the corner, O'Brien shook his head. Julian was definitely acting strangely, though he wasn't able to put his finger on what exactly was different about Julian's behavior. He wasn't sure what to do. He very much felt like confiding his doubts to someone else. But what proof did he have? That Julian seemed more tired than usual? That he had exaggeratedly defended a cat's right? They were small things but he was sure that something was utterly wrong with Julian. He just didn't now what it was, yet...

* * *

><p>No sooner had he made his way back to his quarters, than Julian dropped himself heavily onto the couch, running a hand over his tired eyes. He'd set the lights of his quarters to a brighter degree, though the crude light now just hurt unpleasantly in his stinging eyes. How long had it been since he'd last slept? He estimated the time to be about 30 hours, hardly more than a whole day. He'd already spent much more time without sleep, so why did he feel so utterly exhausted now?<p>

Sighing, he let his head rest against the soft fabric of the couch. Staring numbly at the ceiling of his quarters, he idly wondered if Miles was right. If there really _was_ something wrong with him. He knew that he'd been suffering from too much stress recently. At least he hadn't lied about this particular part. His work as the station's chief medical officer was keeping him busier than he would have liked – especially during the last few months. But still, there was something else. He didn't like the idea but he was a doctor, after all. He couldn't just ignore what was in front of his eyes.

Pretending – just for a moment – that everything that had happened during the last year had left him more shaken than he had thought. Wasn't it possible – just from a medical standpoint – that the war with the Dominion, the consequences of the revelation of his genetic enhancements and the encounter with Sloan had inflicted deeper wounds upon him than he was ready to admit? What if those past events hadn't been as easy on him as he had always wanted to believe? As a doctor, he had seen the cruelties of war. He'd even been there, fighting alongside his comrades for the freedom of the alpha quadrant, clinging to a smidgen of hope in the face of desperate odds. What if his mind was finally giving in to the pressure that had been building for more than a few months now?

Feeling slightly nauseated, he had to concede that – even though he found it hard to believe – he couldn't completely discard the thought, at least not from a medical standpoint. Only thinking back at the encounter with Sloan some time ago, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. No, those events had been everything but pleasant and he had no desire to repeat those experiences.

Sloan accusing him of being a spy for the Dominion without even knowing it. He had really believed it then. He had thought of the simulation as reality, had started to doubt his own sanity. He still could vividly recall his first meeting with Sloan, how relieved he had felt after their first session had ended – but also the queasy feeling when he had been ordered back to the man. All the way it had taken him to the wardroom, his distrust had increased, his relief being replaced by worry – and finally distress. It hadn't been fair to accuse him of things he'd never done, to twist the truth and events against him. In that very moment – sitting in front of Sloan, hearing those ludicrous things out of the other man's mouth – he hadn't known how to react. He'd known that he was innocent. And the fact that had scared him the most was to learn that one person's life could be manipulated so easily. He had been completely at Sloan's mercy – and that had broken the remaining part of his naivete.

It had been the moment when he'd faced Sisko, his own captain, a man he had always looked up to. He had know that he was innocent, that he'd been tricked. Sloan had twisted every incident of the past few years against him and his only remaining hope had lain with the man standing on the opposite side of the forcefield. And even he had dashed it. Even if he'd once believed in rightness and truth, even if he'd once believed in the notion of justice – in that very moment he'd been pushed into the cold water of reality. There was no truth, no rules by which anybody at any time had to abide. It had been irony of fate that it had been Garak who'd once tried to make him understand. _The truth lies in the eye of the beholder – _only now he started to grasp the full meaning of it. Even if the whole thing had been nothing more than a simulation on the holodeck – the pain remained the same. The pain of having been betrayed by everything he'd once believed in. No, those had been anything but pleasant events and it still would take him some time to cope with what had happened.

Sighing, he scrambled to his feet, walking over to the replicator.

"Tarkalean tea."

Only a few seconds later, a steaming black cup coalesced into shape. Gingerly reaching out for the beverage, Julian felt a pang of guilt recalling how he had canceled the last few lunches with Garak. Surely the Cardassian tailor would worry about not having seen Julian for some time, though in that very moment he couldn't and wouldn't change a thing about it. Tomorrow the _Defiant_ departed for the Zenahr system, keeping him busy for yet another week – making it possible for him to escape Garak's questions for the time being.

He wasn't sure why he had started to prefer the solitude of his quarters to his friend's company. Sooner or later they would start to worry – and he couldn't even blame them. He knew that Miles must have noticed. But even that didn't come as a surprise. He knew that he must look ten times as miserable as he felt. Sooner or later they were bound to notice that something was wrong. He didn't dare think of the consequences...

He wondered what Miles must be thinking. He really felt sorry for how he'd reacted in the chief's quarters the night before. He never had intentioned to shout at O'Brien, least of all harm him, but something within himself had made him react even before he'd had the chance to think about it. Julian couldn't tell what it was that had prompted his reaction – but somehow he knew that it had to do with whatever was happening to him. The nightmares were one thing. Even though he didn't understand their meaning, he understood very well the feelings they managed to stir up within him: depression, anxiety and panic. Although they were nothing more than dreams he dreaded them more than anything else. He knew that no matter what he dreamed next – he would only get involved further and something deep within himself was frantically trying to resist. He didn't know what would be waiting for him in the depths of sleep but his mind unmistakeably told him that it was better to never find out.

What was worrying him even more, though, was his increasingly irritated behavior toward others during the last few days. He knew that he had been acting rather abrasive and angry recently. Back in the infirmary he'd scolded nurse Bendi more severely than necessary and even back at the wardroom he hadn't intended to be so rude toward O'Brien. It just didn't make any sense. He knew that this wasn't him. He just hadn't been the type to isolate himself so much. And he knew that until some days earlier he definitely hadn't been so keyed-up and cool toward others, never this depressed and pessimistic.

Unsure what to do, he stared absently out the view port. Only another half day till the departure of the _Defiant_. His grip around the tea cup tightened, and he drew in a deep breath to calm himself. Right now he needed to keep his mind busy. To try not to think about things he didn't have any influence on anyway.

Decidedly he stepped in front of the console. He'd send Evans a message.

* * *

><p>Two hours later and with his tracksuit, he stood in the middle of the racquetball court. Captain Evans came in only a short moment later, sports bag slung over his shoulder and clad in his usual sportswear. "I guess I kept you waiting again, Julian," Evans apologized, smiling with slight resignation. "The meeting with Captain Sisko kept me busy longer than I expected…"<p>

Bashir shook his head. "Never mind. Captain. I'm glad you've got the chance to play, at all."

"You want to thank me? It's rather my turn to thank you, Doctor. I'd drop almost everything for a good match of racquetball," Evans replied. "Who knows how long until we'll have the opportunity to play against each other again. And who knows when and if I'll ever find an opponent like you again." Quickly he pulled the racket out of his bag, throwing it casually from one hand into the other. "Shall we?"

With a subtle nod, Julian positioned himself and served, bouncing the ball once on the floor and batting it full-force against the wall. Evans parried, sending the ball back against the black metal wall where it instantaneously flew off in Julian's direction, missing the young man only by a few inches. Bashir had a hard time parrying the shot but managed to get the ball, giving it an odd spin and sending it whirling off into the far left corner of the room. Slightly amused, Evans looked behind him, scooping the tiny ball up with one hand. "Really not bad, Julian. I think even Peter would be impressed by your skills."

When Bashir shot him a puzzled look, Evans added as explanation: "Peter was vice champion of the internal academy championship – a truly gifted young man. I think you both could learn quite a lot from each other – if there's anything left to learn, that is. I think Peter must be about your age."

Bashir arched a brow. "Your son?" It was only a guess but considering how Evans talked about the young man, Julian couldn't help asking.

The elder man hesitated shortly, a broad grin then spreading across his sweaty features. "I'm afraid not. I just met him during my stay on Earth. Well, I couldn't help visiting the academy after all those years so I just stopped by at the sports facilities. And that was where I met Peter. He was so talented a young man." Evans handsome features took on a wistful faraway look, his gaze directed absently in front of him as if he were back to another time and place. "We used to play together quite often. Even after Peter got assigned to the _Corella_. No, Peter isn't my son, though I have to admit that I sometimes wish he were."

Waking from his daydreams, Evans turned his attention back to Bashir, smiling encouragingly. "Peter was an extraordinary young man with many talents, but I think one could say the same about you, Doctor. Your parents must be quite proud of you."

Bashir stiffened on the comment. Slightly embarrassed he turned away. He hadn't intended to talk to Evans about his private business. "I… guess so," he stalled, positioning himself once again next to Evans. "You serve."

Evans didn't make him wait, throwing the ball up into the air and batting it with all his might, amazing Julian with the ease with which he parried ball after ball. Only a few strikes later, the ball streaked by next to Bashir, banging against the closed metal door in their backs.

"One to one. Perhaps I'm not too old for this game yet."

One exchange of blows was followed by another and before he could say knife the first match was already over. Although he was no less fit than usual, Julian made some obvious mistakes whereas Evans had gained considerable ground on him since their last match. Sighing, the captain finally grabbed his towel, wiping his sweaty face. Julian just stood leaning against the wall, waiting.

"You don't seem to get along very well with your parents," Evans stated casually, though it made Julian's heart involuntarily skip a beat. Letting his head drop heavily back against the bulkhead in resignation, he grimaced. "Well, no… it's just… We're working on rebuilding our relationship."

Slightly surprised, Evans ventured: "It's because of your genetic enhancements." His voice sounded mild and sympathetic. It wasn't so much a question than a statement.

Julian inhaled deeply. He wasn't sure what to answer. "Well… yes," he admitted finally.

"I've heard about the incident. I can imagine that it must have been quite a hard time for you. And I figure it must have been a difficult time on your parents as well."

Bashir nodded, an awkward silence starting to fill the gap between the two men. "I… guess it was. It's just… hard not to do those things you've been doing for the better part of your life." He hoped for Evans to let the topic fall but the captain faced him with an expression hovering between dismay and honest concern.

"I'm sorry, Julian. But - looking at you, I just can say that you're parents were right. I know that it's illegal and I won't discuss moral principles with you but I can understand your parents' decision. They must be very proud of you, Julian. I don't know what I would have done if I had been in their place."A profound sadness suddenly settled upon Evans' handsome features. "Well, you know, I'm a married man – or at least I was at one point."

When Evans hesitated for a short moment, Julian couldn't help lifting his gaze. "What happened?" he asked in the same gentle tone he usually used toward his patients.

"Her name was Miranda – and she was the most beautiful and lovely woman I had ever met. We spent some blessed years together. I met her shortly after I had received command of the _Columbus._ After the Telerian Wars we settled down on Atholes III – a beautiful, prospering world at that time. We just wanted to start all over again. We had a little house in the northern part of Northport. Miranda was an ambassador, negotiating between the Lennarean and Morani until a war was finally inevitable. However, all those years before we had to leave home, we spent blissful years together. It was all like we'd planned it. Just start all over again… till it became evident that my wife would never be able to give birth to a child…" Dropping his gaze absently toward the floor, Evans drew in a long breath. "All I ever wanted was to have a family, Julian. Can you imagine what a shock it was for me to hear that I wouldn't be able to have a child with the woman I loved?"

Bashir knit his brow, his attention drawn. "But there surely would have been a way. It's quite common to use special surgery…"

The captain met his eyes – a somber shadow on his once-bright features. It was hard for Julian to put it into words, but what he saw in those tantalized eyes was a profound anguish the captain must have been carrying with him for all those years since.

"Miranda wouldn't allow that. She refused to give birth to a child in any other way. She told me that if she had been meant to become pregnant it would have happened a long time ago. I don't know why but she was resigned to her fate." Evans rubbed his tired eyes.

"After the plan of our own little family was destined to fail, I tried to convince her that it wasn't her fault. That we could still be together… However, although we still spent many happy days together, there suddenly was something between us. I don't know how to describe it, but it was there – and it kept growing. When finally the war started and we had to abandon the colony, I not only lost my home but also the family I had always longed for. Miranda kept drawing back to herself and after we had left Atholes III it was clear to both of us that our paths would diverge for good. Believe me, Julian, it wasn't an easy decision to let her go, but our future together had been dammed right from the beginning."

Unexpectedly he smiled. "That's why I think you parents are very lucky people. Even if your relationship is a hard one, you have a relationship. If I had been granted the chance to have my own son, I would have been glad if he had been like you, Julian."

Slightly blushing in spite of himself, Bashir didn't know what to respond. He hadn't been prepared for the frankness with which Evans talked to him about his private life.

"I'm sure you would have been a good father, Sir."

Evans offered a sad smile. "Thank you, Julian." Then he tightened his grip around the racket. "That was a long time ago. It took me some time to get over it but now it's only a sad part of my memory. And every cloud has a silver lining…"

Bashir's cast him a puzzled look.

"I was able to focus on my career. I could gather experience that'll come in useful now," Evans smiled mischievously before he threw the ball up into the air and batted it with all his might.


	6. Chapter 6

- **Chapter 6 -**

"Cheers to Captain Evans and the success of our mission!"

Captain Sisko was standing at the far end of the decorated dining table and lifted his glass into a toast that was instantaneously responded by all attendants. "It's for this special event that I decided to try out one of Dad's favorite recipes – with Jake's help here, of course." The captain patted his son affectionately on the shoulder and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. "I take it you must already be starving, so I'll make this short: Please help yourselves."

"I hope you left out the beet this time," Bashir commented grimacing, as he suspiciously eyed the various plates and steaming pots neatly arranged in the center of the table. The delicious scent of fried vegetable and garlic bread hung in the air, making the captain's offer more than tempting. It didn't take long before the seats around the table were taken, everyone eager for the opportunity of a fresh and homemade dinner.

"Don't worry, Julian. I was assisting myself and I took care of that," Dax beamed at him with a wink - which didn't seem to reassure the young man in the least.

"Thank you very much for taking the trouble to prepare all this, Benjamin. It's an honor for me. I would have never expected to get such a warm welcome." Evans was about to lift the lid of the nearest pot, when Sisko put in with one of his mysterious smiles: "It's my pleasure, Captain. To tell the truth, it's been quite a while since we all last had the chance to spend some time together. I'm glad for the opportunity."

Letting his gaze wander about the menu laid out in front of him, Evans arched one brow. "I hope this all tastes as good as it smells."

Soon the small room of the captain's quarters was filled with the clatter and happy chattering of a dinner among friends. When O'Brien helped himself to some soup, Julian threw a quick glance toward the chief. "Stew again?"

O'Brien grimaced in mock sarcasm. "I told you that it's healthy!" Loading his plate with some slices of the fresh toasted garlic bread, he added casually: "By the way, seems like you made a new friend. I guess Chester can't wait for you to come visit us again."

"Chester?" Julian replied puzzled. Then his mind seemed to catch up on O'Brien's words. "Ah," he replied vaguely while his fork found its way to one of the shrimps on the large plate in front of them.

The chief just shrugged. "He helped himself to another bite while I didn't pay attention. He'd already made it through half of the plate before I came back."

While Bashir just shook his head as if not sure what to make of O'Brien's words, another voice was clearly discernible over the clatter of knives and forks. "You can at least try!" Jadzia exclaimed incredulously.

Folding his arms decidedly across his chest, Worf just grunted. "I don't eat shrimps and you should accept that fact."

Dax threw up both hands. "Fine. See, if you'll ask me to do you a favor, I'll also say no."

Sighing in resignation, Worf just shook his head. "That's not the same."

Pouting, Dax turned to focus her attention on the captain next to her. "And what about you, Captain Evans?"

The older man looked up from his plate, slightly confused. "About me?"

"I think Dax is talking about the shrimps," Kira offered chewing, just earning herself a dark look from Jadzia.

Evans nodded with a bright smile, addressing Sisko to his left. "I have to admit that I'm quite impressed by your cooking skills. It's been a while since I had something as good as this."

"You're welcome," Sisko grinned, offering Evans the salad bowl that had just come over from Jake.

"Where did you learn to cook like this, Benjamin?"

"Must have been the good influence of my father," he laughed. "He has his own restaurant, you know. Seems like I had no other choice but inherit his love for cooking. Besides, you never know when it might come in handy one day."

Evans seemed honestly impressed. "Then I hope we'll have many more opportunities like this before our mission is over."

"What about you, Captain Evans? Have you already something in mind for what you'll do after our mission?" It was Kira who was responsible for the sudden change in topics.

Evans hesitated a short moment. "Perhaps I'll return to Earth. Or to one of our starbases. I haven't received any orders yet."

"Excuse me, Sir, but has it never occurred to Starfleet to elevate you to the rank of admiral?" O'Brien remarked casually. "I mean, after all you're achievements. I can't see any reason why Starfleet would let such an opportunity slip away." The Chief turned to face his friends, as if waiting for their consent.

"You're right, Mr. O'Brien. To tell the truth, there are times when I ask myself the same question. But then, I like being captain – more perhaps than being an admiral. I just can't imagine myself sitting at a desk all day long, dealing with never-ending paperwork," Evans laughed and put some more shrimps on his plate. "And I guess Starfleet knows that."

Sisko nodded. "I see. Being an admiral is perhaps not the honor one would think it to be. I guess everyone who had his or her own command will agree. Some time ago, I was in the same position and it was not until we got DS9 back under Starfleet control that –"

Suddenly stopping in mid-sentence, Sisko frowned. "Doctor, would you mind telling me the reason why you keep scattering pan crumbs on my carpet?"

All at once Bashir became the center of everyone's attention. He was still bending over in his chair, his gaze directed absently on the floor. Hearing his name, he suddenly winced and jerked back up. Bringing himself in an upright position, he still held one of the pan crumbs in his hand, trying to hide it as soon as he remembered where he was. When he met the questioning faces of his friends, his eyes grew wide.

"I…," he stammered with an expression hovering between surprise and dismay. Recognizing the same startled expression on Julian's face like in his quarters the evening before, O'Brien was anything but sure how the young doctor would react.

"I… I don't know, Sir," Bashir finally conceded, slightly blushing in spite of himself. Obviously embarrassed and lost for words, he let his gaze drop to the barely touched plate in front of him.

"So let's hope it won't become one of your bad habits then," Sisko tried to overcome the unpleasant silence. He hadn't intended to scold Bashir though he had to admit that he _was_ surprised about his strange behavior.

"I...I'll try," the young man grimaced with an obvious stutter. His bewildered and unsure expression involuntarily reminded Sisko of a younger Bashir, fresh out of medical school and on his first real adventure in the depths of space. He hadn't noticed how much Julian had grown up since then...

"Well, Benjamin, I guess you should have reserved this friend here for some later point," Evans interrupted the silence between them with a mischievous smirk on his face. He was holding the Aldorian Brandy Sisko had ordered from Quark for this occasion. Turning it in his hands to read the label, Evans arched one brow. "I guess we should have started with something lighter," he chuckled, flashing a conciliatory smile toward the young man sitting obviously crestfallen on the opposite side of the table.

Getting the cue, Dax placed her knife and fork on the empty plate in front of her. "I'm not sure if you feel the same but – I could go for a dessert now." Grinning, Dax threw a mischievous look at Sisko and the others.

"I knew you would ask, Old Man."

While Sisko got up to get the masterpiece of the evening, Jadzia placed a warm hand on Julian's shoulder, squeezing it gently. The young man turned to face her, though his expression remained tense. Chatter and laughter was returning to the room, the mood of all attendants lifted even more when the captain and his son brought over the intricately adorned cups of pudding. While Evans' eyes grew ever larger with astonishment and Worf's frown deepened with the prospect that their little party wouldn't be so short-lived as he had hoped it would be, O'Brien went over to try and engage Julian into conversation, though the young man wouldn't mumble so much as half-hearted responses. Even though he did stay well into the evening – until even the smallest crumbs of bread and the last surviving pudding had found their new owner and everyone around gradually started to call it a night – the young man was the first to excuse himself, obviously relieved to finally leave the bustling and noisy place behind.

* * *

><p>"Release docking clamps!" Sisko's firm voice filled the small bridge of the <em>Defiant<em>.

He'd taken a seat in his commanding chair, his gaze directed onto the huge viewscreen in front of them. He felt calm and relaxed – so very different from what he should feel in the face of the upcoming mission. But then – the trip toward the Cardassian border reminded him more of a short walk around the block rather than a top-secret mission from Starfleet Intelligence. He wondered if it was only him but somehow the realization of what lay ahead hadn't really hit yet.

"Aye, Sir." Nog was at engineering, his fingers dancing over the console in front of him. At least the young Ferengi seemed no less excited than if they were about to speed through the wormhole and right into the claws of the Dominion.

"Full impulse, Ensign."

Sisko kept his eyes on the wide viewscreen which now displayed one of the upper pylons of the space station in colossal size. Evans was standing next to him, his gaze fixed at the docking hatch, growing ever smaller the farther they got away from the station. His face drawn into a faint smile, his thoughts were already far away. Sisko couldn't blame him. After all those years, Evans was finally about to return home. A home he had never wanted to abandon. A home he was now offered the unexpected chance to come back to.

"Estimated time of arrival at Atholes III in 32 hours and 14 minutes," Dax announced from tactical. "Seems like it's going to be a quiet flight."

Arching one brow, the captain shot her a doubful look. "I wouldn't be that sure, Old Man. What about the intensified enemy activity along the border? Any news?"

O'Brien swiftly turned in his chair. "No suspicious movement so far. At least nothing that would suggest an immediate attack on the station." Snorting, he added: "I wonder what the Dominion is up to."

"Perhaps nothing at all, Chief. But as a Bajoran saying goes, the careful tend to live longer," Kira interjected from her position, intently studying the readouts of her own console.

"And perhaps, just for once, luck will be on our side," Evans offered with a wistful smile.

"Then let's hope you're both right," Sisko said, his face still tense. "32 hours is a long time..."

* * *

><p>"Something is wrong with Julian," O'Brien unceremoniously announced when he sat down next to Jadzia at one of the tables of the mess hall, holding his still steaming cup of Raktajino. His voice was carrying a tint of worry – but also resignation. Propping his elbows on the table, he absently stared out the viewport.<p>

"You mean because of what happened last night?" Dax gently tried, facing O'Brien with a soft expression. She must also have noticed, as must most probably the rest of the senior staff as well.

O'Brien shook his head and took a short sip of the hot coffee. Still too hot to drink. "I'm not sure. It's not only because of last night. He…" Musing on how to voice his thought, he sighed. He never had been good at these things.

"…looks tired," Kira offered, swaying her own cup absently in both hands.

"That's not surprising. Julian tends to overexert himself – in many ways. He's just too dedicated a doctor," Dax stated.

"It's not only that…" O'Brien tried. "He recently behaves in a strange way… not only yesterday evening."

"Why that?" Kira sounded alarmed, her attention drawn.

The Irishman looked straight at her. "The day before yesterday he was at my quarters for dinner because I thought that a little distraction would do him good. After all what's happened, anyway. It took me quite an effort to get him to take the invitation – and the next thing he tells me is that he's not hungry. Of course I didn't give in but when I replicated something it took him a visible effort to eat."

Dax nodded absently. "Now that you mention it, he really does look even more tired than usual. And paler."

All at once relieved about being able to share his worries with someone else, O'Brien leaned closer. "But that's not all. On that same evening the kids' cat got on my nerves and when I finally lost my patience, I seized Chester by the scruff of his neck to bring him into the children's room," he reported agitatedly, lifting his arm to demonstrate his actions. "But - I didn't make it far when Julian all at once jumped up from his seat, seized my arm and jerked me around, yelling at me to leave the cat alone."

Dax threw a puzzled look at Kira. "That doesn't sound like our Julian at all."

O'Brien directed his gaze absently onto his mug. "That's exactly what I thought. And I don't think that Julian himself was aware of what he was doing in that moment. Some moments later he seemed to come around, mumbling something about being sorry, and then he dashed out of the room. At first I thought that perhaps he was just overstressed but since yesterday evening I'm not so sure any more."

"Have you tried to talk to him?" Kira suggested.

"I have. But Julian just reacts the same irritated way every time I try."

Dax nodded. "At least that sounds like our Julian." Then she propped herself on her elbows, shoving her cup of coffee aside. "Is there anything else you found suspicious?"

O'Brien hesitated a short moment, casting a quick look around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. He didn't like talking about Julian behind his back. "I'm not sure but... Julian seems to haven't slept in days. Well, not much anyway."

Kira knit her brow. "I'm sure, Julian knows what he's doing. He's a doctor, after all."

"I know, but... he's been working so much recently. Like he's somehow trying to keep himself busy with his work. Yesterday, Quark told me that Julian hadn't left the infirmary all night. He'd still been there when I came in in the morning. I mean, there's not that much to do, is there? Not so much as to stay up all night..."

"You hired Quark to spy on Julian?" Kira stared incredulously at the chief.

The chief grimaced in dismay. "No! Of course not... well, yes... okay, sort of," he finally conceded with a snort. "Quark still owed me a favor." Getting serious again, he tightened the grip around his mug. "But the whole point is, something doesn't seem to be right."

"So what can we do?" Kira arched one brow. "You still don't have any solid proof and he won't talk to you."

"I wasn't sure if I should tell the Captain," O'Brien reluctantly tried, lifting his gaze to face his friends. He didn't like the idea. "I don't know. Up until now it's just … some kind of bad feeling, but..."

Even before he had the chance to explain that indefinite feeling that had been nagging at the corner of his mind, the doors hissed apart, announcing yet another visitor to the _Defiant_'s mess hall. Spotting the person in question enter, they quickly drew back from each other. Too quickly. _Yeah, just make him even more suspicious than he already is,_ the chief thought sarcasticly. The young man didn't seem to have noticed, though. He was too absorbed in his private thoughts, only realizing their little group when he had made it halfway into the room. His stunned expression lingered only a second. Then his lips drew into a faint but genuine smile.

"I thought I'd find you here," he remarked nonchalantly.

Dax indicated the vacant seat next to them. "There's nothing else to do anyway. The _Defiant_ is unlikely to come across enemy ships in Federation territory so the only thing we can do now is wait. It's the literal silence before the storm."

Julian took a seat next to O'Brien, running his hand over his face. "I've run several diagnostics in the infirmary. Couldn't think of anything else to do than get some coffee. Where are the others?"

"Worf is on the bridge with Benjamin and Captain Evans. There's not much to do – but, you know Worf. He would never allow himself to deal less serious with the situation than if we were about to run into a real battle every moment now. And Captain Evans – he seems so eager to reach our destination. I guess he's counting every single minute until we reach Atholes III," Jadzia chuckled.

"Sounds like I haven't missed much," Julian remarked, leaning back in his chair. Feeling the probing gazes of his friends, his eyes narrowed. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

After a short silence, it was Dax who spoke up first. A reassuring smile fell on her lips. "You look tired, Julian. Why don't you get some rest? It'll be a long journey after all and it's not that there's much to do anyway."

Even though Jadzia's tone was gentle and casual, Bashir obviously stiffened. When he opened his mouth in response, he sounded defiant. "I'm fine, Jadzia," he shook his head. "Thanks for your care."

Kira leaned back, still intently studying his expression. "It's been some hard days on all of us. I guess we all could need some rest." When she spoke, she didn't take her eyes off him.

The young doctor held her gaze for a moment, then glanced sideways at O'Brien and Jadzia. "I see," he finally said. His voice was cool and controlled, though he obviously was trying hard not to let his composure slip. "I guess, you're right, Major. I guess that's exactly what I should do," he said tersely, not meeting her eyes when he drew himself up. "See you all later." Without another word he headed for the exit.

Stunned by his unexpected abrasive behavior, Kira knit her brow. "Did I say something wrong?"

"See what I mean?" O'Brien grumbled. He didn't have the least doubt that Julian would do anything but take their advices. His repulsive reaction clearly showed how less he'd slept in the last days. And O'Brien didn't know what he could do to make Julian talk about what was bothering him.

"And now?"

* * *

><p>Tired and exhausted, Julian let his head sink back onto the pillow. He just wanted to forget everything around him and surrender himself to the soft embrace of sleep. But he also knew that this wasn't possible. No matter how much his head was aching, not matter how grainy his eyes felt, he still was strong enough to will himself to stay awake. He very well knew that he had to be rested for what lay ahead on Atholes III and that his present condition was anything but beneficial to their mission. Even more so because he had to precisely calculate the interruption in the security system to prevent their mission from failing. He knew that he had been entrusted with great responsibility. But still, he wasn't yet prepared to face his nightmares again. He knew that it was ridiculous, that he couldn't run away forever but his fear lent him the strength he needed.<p>

"Computer, what time is it."

Waiting for the always monotonous computer voice, he stared absently at the ceiling of his bunk. "The time is 2200 hours."

_2200 hours?_ How was he ever going to make it to the next morning...

Cautiously he pulled his legs up onto the mattress. He still wore his uniform. It didn't make sense to change into his pajamas for he didn't plan on taking a nap anyway. But at least he could lean back and try to relax. Try to not to think. Rolling onto his side, he grabbed for one of the PADDs still lying next to the bunk and started reading.

It didn't take long though, till the silence of the small cabin was suddenly disturbed by the door's chime. Reluctantly answering the call, he wasn't even too surprised to find Dax standing on the other side.

"May I come in?" She, too, was still dressed in her uniform, holding two blue cups with some steaming brown liquid, waiting for him to invite her into his quarters. Or at least into the small cabin that was assigned to him during their short journey through space.

Hastily Julian flung the PADD aside. "Of course," he tried to sound nonchalant.

Jadzia nodded swiftly, entered the room and, turning into the young man's direction, offered Julian one of the mugs. "For you," she smiled mysteriously.

Hesitantly Bashir took it. "What is it?" His puzzled gaze lingered one moment on the steaming cup, then it wandered back to Dax who had already made herself comfortable, sitting down on the other free bunk next to his.

"Hot chocolate," she pointed out with a broad smile. "I thought you could need it. It'll help you relax."

"Chocolate?"

"Of course," she laughed. "You should have seen me during my preparation time on Trill. I was always so excited and nervous, never slept well. I..." she shrugged. "I just never let my guard down, always trying to be ready for whatever test would be waiting for me. I guess I'd have never lived through it all hadn't it been for hot chocolate."

Taking a reluctant sip, Julian's gaze fell to the floor, his face blank. "It's been quite a while…" Then he seemed to come around, offering a weak smile.

"Did O'Brien send you?"

Jadzia grimaced in mock indignation. "Why do you always suggest there is something behind everything? No, neither Chief O'Brien nor Major Kira told me to do so. I just thought you could need some company."

When Julian only nodded, Jadzia took a glance around. She spotted one of the PADDs that lay scattered across the small table and took it. "Accelerated intramuscular fiber development? What are you reading?" Jadzia commented with a swift glance on the index. "You should relax, not work!"

Placing his half empty mug on the table, Julian snatched the PADD from her. "It's not work," he defended himself. "It's advanced training." Bringing the PADD into security as far away from Jadzia's reach as possible, he casually added: "How long until we reach Atholes III?"

Jadzia shrugged. "I guess about 26 more hours."

Sighing, Bashir sat once again down on the bunk next to her. He really wondered how he was supposed to get over the next 26 hours – to say nothing of the mission on Atholes III. Perhaps he should take a short rest all the same. He could lie down and just close his eyes. His eyes felt so tired, his mind beginning to slowly drift away. With a soft groan he ran a hand over his face, trying to banish the tiredness out of his mind. But in vain. He felt like the whole world was suddenly coming crashing down on him.

"You sure, you don't want to lie down, Julian?" Dax asked in concern, placing her own mug onto the table.

"I assure you, Jadzia, I'm…." Bashir answered in a whisper though the last words never made it past his lips, when his body all at once started to collapse sideways. Hastily reaching out for him in time, she managed to catch him by the arm, gently easing his half-conscious body onto the bunk's mattress. For a moment, he seemed to fight the sudden overwhelming sensation lulling his mind into the soft veil of sleep, his eyelids fluttering in a futile effort to hold onto the here-and-now. Though in vain. One more half-conscious groan - and he was gone. His inert face peaceful and calm, his breath came regular and even, leaving no doubt that he had lost the battle.

Feeling a pang of guilt at the sight of the young man now slumped exhausted next to her, Dax lay a warm and comforting hand on his shoulder. Her lips drew into a sad smile when she gently squeezed it. "I'm sorry, Julian," she apologized to his sleeping figure, though she knew he wouldn't hear her. "It's just for your best."

Cautiously as not to disturb his sleep, she heaved his legs onto the bunk and gently rolled him over so he could lie on his back. He didn't even seem to notice. She found the blanket on the far end of the bed, unfolded it and tucked in carefully around his sleeping figure.

"Have a good sleep," she whispered under her breath.

Then she turned and made her way for the bunk on the other side, grabbing one of the PADDs at random. Putting the pillow under her head, she drew her own blanket up to her chest.

"Let's see how interesting your _light_ reading really is…" Dax arched one brow and threw a last checking look at the sleeping figure next to her, before she turned her attention to the small device in her hands.

* * *

><p><em>Proudly he presented his picture to her. It had taken him so much effort to draw it. Every afternoon he'd worked on it. The small river, the many colorful flowers speckled across the green grass. Would she be aware of the raven, hiding between the branches of the tree? The small pebbles on the shore of the creek?<em>

_He was standing in front of her, both arms crossed behind his back, swaying happily to and fro. What would she say? He loved her so much and he desperately wanted to show her. He'd drawn the river, the tree and the flowers only for her. And the people standing there. Of course she would know. She would know who the persons in the picture were and he just couldn't wait being gathered up in her arms._

_But her face remained hard. Why didn't she smile? Why were her eyes so dark? Had he done something wrong? He was so sorry. He hadn't known that she wouldn't like it. Why was she looking so angry?_

_She seized his arm. Her grip was hard and painful but he didn't dare put up a fight. She was shaking him. His surroundings blurred when she yelled at him. His gaze dropped to the picture. The picture he had put so much effort into. She had her hand on it, burying her nails into to colorful paper. He so much wanted to ask her why she didn't like it when a slap threw his face to the side. Thick tears started to fill his eyes, though he knew that he mustn't cry._

_She dragged him with her. His arm was burning where she held him. His face was drawn into a teary grimace – though she didn't seem to notice. Why didn't she hear him? What had he done wrong? She was so mad and he was so scared. When she shoved him into the room, he fell. He didn't dare look up, just stayed crouched where he'd hit the floor. He heard her yelling – but she didn't hit him twice._

_Hearing the bang of the door in his back, he couldn't hold his tears back any longer. What had he done wrong? Why was she so mad at him? It was her he had drawn the picture for. It had taken him so much time. And she hadn't even noticed the raven. Shaking violently, he cradled his burning arm and pressed it desperately against his chest._

_######  
><em>

_He was sitting in the dark, both knees drawn tightly to his chest, the remains of his tears still sticking to his cheeks. He didn't dare move. He knew the shadows would devour him if he did._

_He tried to suffocate his sobs. They mustn't find him. If they did, he knew he was forlorn. Closing his eyes, he could hear their footsteps in the dark. They were coming closer. He pressed his hands over his ears and made himself as small as possible. Perhaps they wouldn't find him._

_######  
><em>

_He screamed when he passed it, running right through it. He stumbled, fell, hit the ground and staggered up again. He ran. Anywhere. Away from here._

_He ran across the empty promenade. Deserted and gloomy shops flew past him but he didn't stop. Something was behind him and if he stopped he knew he would seal his fate._

_The infirmary was his only hope. They wouldn't find him there. He had to reach the infirmary before the shadows could seize him. But his legs felt so numb. Like rubber. He had to be faster, he had to reach the door._

_The air was knocked out of his lungs when he forcefully hit the infirmary's double doors. They wouldn't part. Why couldn't he get in? He mustn't look back. Panic started to overwhelm him, making him frantically hammer against the cool metal. He glanced to both sides but it was too late. With a desperate cry he threw up both arms in front of his face, sagging down against the wall before a huge blackness collapsed down on him, drowning him in its icy floods._

* * *

><p>The faint but painful groan all at once drew her attention back to reality.<p>

She'd been daydreaming. At first she had tried to find something interesting to read on all those forgotten PADDs that lay scattered across the small table in Julian's quarters but only after a few pages she had given up. It had been anything but interesting. No matter how much Julian would call it "additional training", she just couldn't understand why anyone would choose to spend his free time with something as boring as the topic _accelerated intramuscular fiber development_. Sometimes she just couldn't understand Julian's kind of free time activity. Though she also knew that Julian had barely touched the PADD. The bookmark had still been on the first page… most likely he had intended to use their forced time off in a somewhat meaningful way – but had come to the exactly same conclusion as she had.

Swiftly she brought herself into an upright position, the PADD gliding from her lap as she propped herself on her elbows. Rubbing her eyes, she noticed that she must have fallen asleep during what she had thought to be simple daydreaming. She stifled a subtle yawn and put her legs out from under the blanket that had kept her warm during the last hours.

"Computer, lights," she ordered in a hushed voice, worried that the sudden brightness might wake Julian on the other side of the small cabin. She had dimmed the lights shortly after he'd fallen asleep and when she'd finally realized that she wouldn't find any pleasure in reading medical "advanced training" she had the lights turned down to a minimum. If O'Brien's presumption was right, Julian hadn't slept very much during the last days. And considering how fast his mind and body had surrendered to the sweet temptation of sleep, she knew that the chief must probably have been right. So at least for the few hours she had the chance to, she'd wanted to take care that he got as much rest as he could until they were called on the carpet again.

Not even a second later, the cool lighting churned back to life, bathing the scenery around her in a dull gray. Blinking several times, she got up from the bunk, slowly walking over to the other side where Julian still seemed far asleep.

Another hardly suppressed sob made her wince.

Julian lay on his side, both arms protectively covering his face. He'd drawn his knees to his chest and furled up in a fetal position. She couldn't see his face though she was sure that he was still far asleep. The blanket had slid from his legs, lying now rumpled on the floor. Julian didn't seem to have noticed. His breath came ragged and uneven. Jadzia bent down, about to retrieve the woolen blanket from the ground when another cry startled her. This time it was definitely from Julian. His shoulders were shaking violently, the knuckles of his fists turning a pale white when he furled up even tighter than before. He was having a nightmare. That much was clear.

She sat down on the rim of his bunk, softly placing a hand on his quivering shoulder.

"Julian," she urged in a low voice.

When he didn't react she called his name once more, this time gently shaking him. Another soft touch and he all at once flung open his eyes, crying out and jerking away from her at the same time. Eyes wide with fear and shock he gasped for breath, staring at her in sheer terror until he gradually seemed to recognize who she was and where they both were.

"Sssh. You're safe, Julian. You had a bad dream. But you're safe now," she tried to calm him despite the queasy feeling in her own stomach. More than surprised about his unexpected reaction, she wasn't sure what to do. Julian barely seemed to overcome the illusionary world he'd been trapped in until moments ago, his mind obviously still struggling to decide which side was reality.

After a few awkward seconds, he all of a sudden seemed to come around and backed even farther away from her. Julian hastily struggled to sit up, shoving himself past her, and stumbled unsteadily to his feet – bringing as much distance between them as possible. His arms wrapped around his own body, he still shivered violently. His ashen face was drawn into a painful grimace when he stared incredulously back at her.

It took him some moments before he was finally able to speak. When he did, the profound anguish in his expression was changing into a dark, defensive glare. "Why...why did you do this?" He barely managed to bring those few words over his parched lips.

Jadzia hesitated, but met his gaze squarely then. So he probably knew who was responsible for his unexpected rest. "Because you haven't slept in days, Julian. We need you. You can't risk endangering the whole mission – to say nothing of what will happen if you keep refusing to sleep."

Snorting under his breath, Bashir suddenly turned his back on her. She wasn't sure what a reaction to expect but decided then on waiting and leaving Julian as much time as he needed. His hands clenched into fists when he whirled round again, his face contorted in hot anger. Some bad feeling already told her that he was still there. Whatever he'd seen in that nightmare, it must have been anything but pleasant.

"You didn't have any right to do so!" he blurted out with a venom that made her wonder if his hostility really was meant for her or if he was still in shock from what he'd seen in the dream. Something in his behavior unmistakably told her that she had crossed a line. He seemed so furious and agitated, like a wounded animal ready to attack.

"Please, calm down, Julian." She tried to put as much sympathy in her words as possible, gently drawing herself up and reaching out for him. Before she could touch his forearm, Julian abruptly drew his shoulder back, making her reach out for him in vain.

"Julian? What's going on?"

Bashir still kept staring at her with a mixture of disbelief and distrust on his face. "I'm sorry, Jadzia, but that's none of your business. Nor of anyone else," he finally brought forth before he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

"Julian!"

When the door shut close behind his back, a profoundly confused Jadzia kept staring in the direction he'd just vanished into. She felt as if she'd been slapped. She couldn't remember if she had ever seen him this angry before. It wasn't like him to lose his temper so easily. And it had been the first time he had actually shouted at her...

O'Brien had been right. There definitely was something wrong with Julian though she didn't know how to find out what it was that was bothering him. He wouldn't talk to her. Nor to anybody else. She'd seen his startled expression the moment she'd brought him back from the depths of his nightmare. No matter what it was he'd seen there – he'd been deeply shaken by it.

For a short moment she mused on if she should go tell Benjamin. Julian was an important part of their mission, and they just couldn't take any unnecessary risks. Not if they could prevent them in the first place. She didn't dare think of what might happen if Julian wasn't up to the task of interrupting the security backup system. She could only hope that whatever was bothering the young man wouldn't interfere with his assignment. But then, it wasn't as if she had any solid proof that something really was amiss with Julian either. She couldn't allow her private feelings to get in the way of her job. Unsure, she bit her lower lip. At least she'd taken care that he was rested. He'd slept during the last ten hours. She'd done a good job. That Julian wouldn't agree with her was the lesser evil.

She decided to postpone his strange behavior until later. She'd try to talk with him during the mission. Until then she'd keep a watchful eye on him. Sighing, she drew herself up, retrieving the blanket from the floor and placing it absently back on Julian's bunk.

* * *

><p>He'd known it. Deep within himself he'd known it all the time – but now he was sure. Even though he couldn't figure out the meaning of his dreams, his nightmares, he recognized one thing for sure.<p>

The person in his dreams was himself.

It was he who threatened to drown in the darkness, who had furled up under the soft blankets with tears running down his blushed cheek. It was he who had taken so much effort to draw the picture and who didn't know why she didn't like it. It was his own cheek, burning from the sharp slap, his own arm hurting from her violent grip. All those were his very own feelings – feelings he didn't know, he never wanted to have to know. Trying to block out every thought, he drew his knees closer to his chest. His breathing came still chopped, the all-consuming anger in his chest still threatening to overwhelm him. Shutting his eyes against the queasy feeling in his stomach, he sucked in deep breaths to calm himself.

But in vain.

The images kept rushing to the fore, flooding his mind, making it impossible for him to run away like he had all the previous days. But he no longer could. He couldn't run away from himself. Clutching both arms around his unevenly rising chest, he desperately tried to stifle his feelings' whirling chaos.

The little boy in his dreams. It was him. Or at least it was Julian Bashir many years ago. Though it just didn't fit. Nothing made any sense at all. He'd know it. He'd remember it. If those dreams were meant to be his memories – then they were hard ones to forget. Those events, those dark moments catching him every now and then off guard had never happened.

Defiantly he let his head drop back against the cool bulkhead, trying to get his breath back under control. He couldn't tell how sorry he was for having shouted at Jadzia. He was also sorry that he kept endangering the mission out of of own, egoistic reasons. But he just couldn't tell them about those dreams. He didn't even understand them himself, how was he supposed to explain them to anybody else? He didn't know their origin – though he knew that they came emerging from within himself, came filling him up until every single fiber of his body was flooded with unimaginable fear and panic. And he wasn't able to shut them out. He was able to block them during the day, when he could keep his mind busy. But he was utterly helpless when night came…

If those nightmares really were meant to be his childhood memories, why couldn't he remember them? It couldn't be real – at least that much he knew for sure. His feelings for his mother were completely different from those toward the person in his dreams. No matter how much differences and conflicts they had – he still loved her. But when he thought back to the other Julian – they young boy with his constant fear of darkness, the boy with his heart filled with anxiety, awe and longing. No, those definitely weren't his memories. Far more important was: what else were they?

No matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't find an acceptable answer. There was only one option left – even though he didn't like the idea.

As soon as they were back on the station he'd talk to Counselor Tel Nori. It was his only chance to get to grips with his nightmares. If he wasn't able to manage on his own, he wasn't left with any other alternative than take the help of someone who was. Until then he would try to hold out. Try to concentrate on their mission. He knew his friends counted on him and he couldn't and wouldn't let them down. Until everything was over, he'd concentrate on what was lying ahead. Right now all he needed was distraction, something he could dedicate himself to without thinking.

"Computer, when's our arrival at Atholes III?" he asked in a whisper.

Holding his breath, he waited for the polite answer of the _Defiant'_s computer system. "Estimated time of arrival in 15 hours and 27 minutes."

Groaning tiredly, he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply till he finally felt strong enough to stumble to his feet. He'd been glad for the few minutes alone before he had to go back to the _Defiant_'s pulsing veins. The quarters he'd fled into hadn't been in use for a long time, the walls even darker than normal with only the standby lights lining the floor like pinprick-sized stars. Readjusting his uniform, his hand ran over the small star-like metal badge. He'd completely forgotten to discard it when he'd stormed out of his quarters. If they had wanted to they'd have easily been able to track him to his whereabouts…

Balling a fist around the small device, he wished to linger here for some more moments. But they'd miss him. He didn't have any choice but go back.

Without turning back, he made his way for the door and quickly stepped out into the brightly lit corridor, heading for sickbay…


	7. Chapter 7

**- Chapter 7 - **

"I can get you down to as spot within one mile around Northport. I'm afraid the computer won't get a lock anywhere closer to the city because of the transporter scramblers they're using down there, Captain." The young Ensign operating the transporter console in the cramped transporter room of the _Defiant_ nodded curtly toward both captains, obviously unsure whom to address first.

"Very well. Just try to get a lock on the nearest spot, we'll find our way from there."

The dark-haired Ensign nodded in acknowledgment, his slender fingers dancing immediately over the smooth surface of the black transporter panel. With a last checking look at the readouts, he finally lifted his gaze. "There's some kind of clearing in the woods, not far south to the city. According to the computer readouts, you should have no difficulties to get from there to the southern entrance of the city."

With his hands clasped behind his back, Sisko turned to face his crew. They'd kept the seize of the away teams to a minimum, no more than four or five crew members per unit. "As soon as you reach the surface, keep to the shelter of the woods and wait until the rest of us arrives. We'll head together for the city. Each team has its own instructions. Major, Commander Worf…". Waiting for his two senior staff officers to take the lead and proceed onto the transporter platform, he took a short step back.

Kira lifted her phaser rifle closer to her chest, absently readjusting the strap over her slender shoulder. Her lips were pressed tightly as if she was ready to face whatever would be waiting for them on the surface of the unknown planet. "Aye, Sir."

Seeing each of his teams off, Sisko waited for the last of his officers to be sent down until it was finally only him and Evans remaining in the small transporter room. Drawing a short but deep breath, he shot a quick glance at the older captain and arched one brow with a humorless smile. "Let's hope everything goes well. I'd rather be back sooner than later."

Evans nodded tersely in rather grim determination. It was hard to tell what the older captain was really feeling behind the mask of authority he had learned to put before his own needs over all these years. Whatever Evans' feelings about their impending mission were, he had stowed them away, allowing only professionalism to guide him on what was laying ahead. "As do I, Benjamin, believe me."

After they'd stepped onto the transporter platform and Evans had signaled to the young Ensign to energize, Sisko's vision was all at once drowned in a rain of glittering stars, his whole body tingling with the sensation of his very atoms dispersing in the fraction of a second until the world returned within the blink of an eye and he found himself standing on a sunlit forest glade under a cloudless blue sky. The unexpected brightness made him instinctively squint against the dazzling morning light. It was only after a few more seconds of perplexed awe that he finally came around, shielding his face with one hand and scanning their surroundings for the rest of his crew. The other teams seemed to have already taken shelter in the surrounding woods which only left himself and Evans still standing on open ground. When he turned toward the older captain, Evans had his eyes closed against the warm, gentle breeze carrying with it the sweet scent of clover and pine. A faint smile played around the corner of the elder man's lips when he slowly opened his eyes at length and let his glance wander longingly about the small clearing. Sisko couldn't blame him. After all these years he was finally back home…

"Good memories?" Sisko offered sympathetically.

Evans nodded. "This they are indeed, Benjamin." With a melancholic smile he willed himself back from the depths of his memory and pointed toward the stand of trees ahead. "Let's get going."

When he finally turned his back on the landing coordinates and headed for the shelter of the towering trees with their broad leaves fanning out high above the earthen ground, Sisko felt the tension of the last few minutes gradually fade. He hadn't noticed how much on edge his nerves had been. Following Evans' example, he took a deep breath of the clear and sweet air and headed toward the rest of the away team. Most of them were already waiting in the shadow of the trees, gazing at the sight around them in sheer amazement. Not that he couldn't understand them. The little of the planet he had seen so far made him wistfully aware of how much he missed his own home. How long had it been since he'd last been back to Earth? The beauty of the scenery around made his heart ache in longing. He lifted his gaze to the rustling sound of the soft, speckled leaves above his head, swaying peacefully to and fro in the faint breeze. From somewhere above, the chattering and croaking of birds filled the air, making Sisko wonder if there might be other animals in their near vicinity.

Evans hadn't exaggerated. Atholes III was a beautiful word, so peaceful and quite. Nothing about this place would suggest the ugliness they were soon going to unveil. At the thought he felt a tinge of regret about never being able to see what Atholes III had once been like. All the things Evans had told him, all the former reports he had read in the _Defiant_'s database. A life on Atholes III now lay no less beyond their reach than the peace in the alpha quadrant they had so long been striving for. Putting these dark thoughts out of his mind, though, he tried to focus on what lay ahead. They had a mission after all. This was why they were here.

"I think I'll take my next leave here," O'Brien remarked with a humorous chuckle as he settled himself on the gnarled bole of a fallen tree.

"Just ask the Lennarean and Morani," Dax offered. "They'll be thrilled about the new tourism."

Sisko shot her a quick look of mock indignation before he finally addressed his assembled crewmen: "Until we reach Northport, we'll stay together. As soon as we get to the designated areas in the city, we'll split up. Each team has its own mission. Please keep one thing in mind: no communication if not absolutely necessary. Use your tricorders to send coded impulses for the other teams to know what you're doing and don't forget to activate your position scramblers. If there are any problems, use the emergency signal and we'll break off the mission. And…" Sisko's expression grew even more concerned. "… no heroic deeds! If you get into trouble, keep one thing in mind: sometimes retreat can be the better alternative."

O'Brien snorted under his breath. "One thing we've learned since the beginning of the war."

"Furthermore…" Sisko started, but hesitated then. "If any team comes across Jem'Hadar: we'll take no prisoners. Our mission is too important to be careless. If there are any questions left, now is the right time to ask."

When there was no reaction, Sisko nodded. "Well then, let's go. And good luck."

* * *

><p>Trudging silently through the sea of undergrowth that was covering the ground to their feet, it didn't take them long to reach the outskirts of the former colony. Even in the near vicinity of what once had been a prospering Starfleet settlement, the whole area was now overgrown with moss and fern, nature gradually taking back what once had been taken from her. Determined and without hesitation, Evans found his way all the same, leading them ever farther toward the entrance of the city. When they finally reached what once must have been the southern gate of Northport, Sisko felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the sight that lay in front of them.<p>

An old-fashioned stone arch was marking the beginning of the former settlement, a low stone wall running off into the distance to both sides, separating the city from whatever lay in the shadow beyond the wall's crumbling stone. Even here time had left its traces. Parts of the stone wall had tumbled in, the gate's top was missing completely. A broad cobblestone path was leading off into the city beyond the old gate, like an unspoken invitation to enter.

"Here we are, Benjamin," Evans said in a soft whisper.

Sisko had seen the city map back at the briefing on the _Defiant_. The city wasn't very large. It weren't more than two or three kilometers from one end of Northport to the other. He wasn't sure if it even qualified being called a city, regardless of the fact that it doubtless would have become exactly this and more had the colonization program not come to the abrupt halt shorty after the settlement's foundation...

Without further comment, Evans was the first to pass through the gates. His footsteps echoed softly in the deserted street that led them farther into the city. With his slightly hunched shoulders and bowed head, Sisko involuntarily felt a short twinge of fear that Evans might disappear right before their eyes. He couldn't explain the feeling. It was just that the older captain fit right into the scenery around, as if he was walking away from them right into the past. Shaking his head, Sisko cast that absurd thought away.

After they had made it into the city, they finally split up. Kira, Worf, Dax and Bashir headed northward with their teams while the rest followed Evans along the old city wall in the south.

Moving along the rim of the settlement, they kept to the shadows of the deserted and hollow buildings that were lining most of the streets in eerie silence. Open windows with their glass shattered a long time ago, stared back at them like silent witnesses to their intruding into the enemy's heart. Even though a quick scan of their surroundings revealed no sign of suspicious activity around them, Sisko wasn't willing to take any risks. With an eye on every movement around and a tight grip around his phaser rifle, the captain kept behind his crewmen, ready to give them cover should luck decide to turn against them.

Only when Evans, who had taken the lead, suddenly lowered the tempo came the group to an unexpected halt.

"Which way, Sir?" Nog urged slightly nervous as his gaze darted anxiously from one end of the street to the other. He had lifted his weapon closer to his chest, his knuckles white around the shaft as if he expected a Jem'Hadar ambush every second now.

"Steady, Ensign," Evans admonished gently, placing a warm hand on the Ferengi's small, childlike shoulder. His gaze was directed far away when he finally spoke. "No reason to worry. It's been 25 years since I took my last walk through the city. It's just memories…"

Nog let his gaze drop in slight embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Sir. It wasn't my intention to urge you," he replied through gritted teeth.

Evans dismissively shook his head. Taking a checking look at the rest of his team, he noticed that most of them were obviously sharing the Ferengi's anxiety. O'Brien was right behind him, Sekiyama standing in some distance and playing with the strap of his rifle. Peters was sweeping a streak of her blond hair back behind her ear, nervously balancing from one foot to the other. And Meran just stood, ramrod-stiff without making any other move. He didn't even blink – as far as Evans could see – his pastel-colored horn sheet glinting with sweat in the warm morning light. Evans had to recall that he was Edorian and thus belonging to a species whose normal temperature lay some few degree above what one would call zero back on Earth. No wonder that he wasn't used to a warm environment like this. No matter how uncomfortable he was, to his credit he didn't let it show though.

"What if the Jem'Hadar already know that we're here?" Nog suddenly put in.

"Don't worry, Ensign, the whole point was to come here _undetected._ If the Jem'Hadar were aware of our being here, we wouldn't have this conversation now, believe me, Ensign." Evans arched one brow.

"Yeah, you're right but what if they want to rule out that someone tries to sneak into the city like _us_? They could still be patrolling the area. I mean, just in case?"

"This is exactly why we have security with us. They'll keep your back free," Sisko added casually, stepping next to the older captain.

"We're almost there." Evans remarked with a slight frown. "It's just behind that bridge that's crossing the river – on the other side of the riverbank." Just when he was about to head off once again toward their destination, he noticed that Sisko was still staring absently in front of himself, obviously deep in thought.

"What is it, Benjamin?" Evans asked in alarm though Sisko just shook his head, a sad smile crossing his dark features.

"I… just imagined what it must have been like when all of this was still full of life…"

Evans took a deep and slow breath. "Beautiful, Captain. Just beautiful," he whispered under his breath more to himself than to Sisko.

Sisko had to admit that walking through the lifeless, dusty streets was a strange and disturbing feeling. Like he was standing on a long lost graveyard, completely forgotten to the rest of the world. The way the settlement was built left no doubt to its Starfleet origin. He didn't even have to know pictures of the city to imagine what Northport must have been like in the early days of its foundation. To see civilians and Starfleet personal walk chattering along the streets, to picture how everyone worked to make Northport the prospering settlement that once had been mentioned in the Starfleet colonization reports. Now, the only thing that reminded of any Starfleet presence at all were the dusty and grime-covered remains of standardized metal plates at the entrance of each building, indicating whatever the location had once been used for. Northport in its present state was a city of decay. A city of lost hope. The things that had happened here had long since become a part of history. The Northport lying now in front of them was one thing above all: a home to their worst enemy.

The sun stood still clear in the blue and cloudless sky, bathing the cobblestone streets of Northport in a warm and gentle glow. Some of the buildings around them cast long square shadows down on the streets and small alleys, the vast squares and the town walls that kept existing even though life had died here many years ago. Some of the higher buildings had tumbled in, parts of them missing at some sides, vegetation slowly forcing its way back into places it had once been banished from.

"If you enter one of the houses… you'll find everything the way they had to leave it… The outbreak of the war didn't leave them with much time. It all happened so suddenly..."

Sisko turned, taking in Evans shadowy features. Was there a hint of bitterness in the captain's voice? The older captain still wasn't willing to turn his back on the scenery, still staring at one of the buildings right in front of him. His voice was barely audible when he finally sighed.

"I've been dreaming of this for a long time. This is where I belong, Benjamin. This is my home."

Sympathetically squeezing Evans' shoulder, Sisko followed the elder man's gaze to the ocher colored building in front of them with its hollow doorway and moss covered window sills. "Is this where you lived?"

Willing himself to tear his gaze away, Evans suddenly looked perplexed, shaking his head as if to free himself of the shadows of the past. "No, we lived a little bit farther to the north, but…this is our former school building."

"I see."

Evans drew a long breath and eventually pointed his phaser rifle in the direction of the street ahead of them. Sisko could only imagine how much strength it took the older captain to turn his back on memories that lay so close in reach. "We'll be there soon. We shouldn't waste more time than necessary. Let's get to that ventilation shaft and get it all done with."

He cast a last glance behind himself, his lips pressed into a tight line, then he strode off to once again take the lead. O'Brien, Meran, Peters, Nog and Sekiyama followed without comment, Sisko the last one to take the cue. He wasn't sure what it must feel like for Evans to come back to this place after all these years, knowing that again he could do nothing but let go of what he had never wanted to give up in the first place. Atholes III was still restricted area for any further colonization programs, left alone the fact that the whole system was now under enemy control. No matter how close Evans physically came to his former life, he would never be able to return to those days...

For the rest of their little journey they remained rather silent. While Evans led them through the maze of small alleys and Sisko kept a watchful eye on their backs, the buildings around them soon became smaller in their height, the distance between them larger until they finally hit the old town wall again, marking the end of the settlement. Regardless of the many years that had gone by since then, it still stood solid and stable, covered with sprawling, thick twines of a strange species of plant Sisko had never seen before.

"And now?" Sisko suspiciously eyed what lay in front of them.

Gesturing to the far end of the cobblestone street, Evans shook his head. "This way. There's a gate a few meters up that path which will lead us into the woods beyond the city wall. The vent is situated farther off the camp." Without another word, the elder captain beckoned the rest of the group to follow. After only a few meters they found the small gate, a barely visible path leading off into the fresh and cool air of the shadows beyond it.

The narrow pathway must have been hardly in use even some twenty years ago. Now it was completely covered with meter-thick brushwood, though Evans didn't seem to have any trouble finding his way through the soft sea of green. Determined, he lead them deeper and deeper into the unknown territory. It was the moment when the last rays of sunlight were caught by the thick, fanning branches of year-old trees far above their heads that Sisko suddenly felt restless. Quickly, he caught up with Evans.

"You sure that this is the right way? How far?" He tried not to sound as impatient as he felt though he couldn't keep his thoughts from spinning back to the other teams heading for some distant places in the northern part of the town right now. He couldn't but hope for the other teams to be safe. He took a deep, slow breath, trying to concentrate.

"Here we are, Benjamin."

Evans abruptly came to a halt. With his eyes still focused on the barley visible path, Sisko could stop in time not to inadvertently bump into the older man in front of him.

Evans quickly handed him his weapon and made his way toward some kind of rock about ten meters ahead. They must have finally made it to the mountain's foot which was surrounding the ore processing facility for the ground had become rockier until they were now facing an almost insurmountable rock face to their left, its top losing itself somewhere beyond the impenetrable mass of green above their heads. It was not until he took a closer look that he gradually realized what Evans was up to.

"Can you lend me a hand? It doesn't move." The older captain was down on his haunches, rattling at something that looked like an old-fashioned kind of metal grid.

With Sisko's help they finally managed to pry it loose and the rusty metal come off with a loud and sickening squeal. Evans threw the twisted piece of metal aside, inspecting the black hole in front of them just big enough to allow a grown-up person to crawl in.

"I figure there won't be any lights down there?" O'Brien pointed out skeptically, sighing under his breath when neither Sisko nor Evans responded. "Thought so. Why's it always me who gets these thrilling tasks?" he grumbled under his breath, inspecting the opening of the vent more closely.

"This is where we'll part, Chief. From now on you'll be in command. You and you're team will be on your own," Evans said solemnly. "Follow the vent until you get to the security chamber. And don't worry, you won't be able to get lost in there, at least not until you reach the control chamber. In this part of the facility the vent runs strictly linear. If you venture deeper into the complex, things will get a little trickier but as long as you stick to the plan there's no need to worry. When you get to the security chamber, take out the security system, bring it back online and then retreat back to the landing coordinates. If there are no further questions, let's go."

O'Brien nodded in acknowledgment before he turned to Nog, arching one brow with a humorless smile. "Ensigns first." And addressing Sisko and Evans he added: "Good luck, Captain." Then he swiftly turned, following Nog into the darkness of the small tunnel while Sekiyama, Peters and Meran took guard at each side of the opening.

With a last encouraging nod, Sisko turned to follow Evans back toward the settlement. From now on they were on their own.

* * *

><p>Commander Worf melted back into the shadow of the deserted hallway next to him. They hadn't encountered any enemy so far. Nothing that would suggest that there actually <em>was<em> any living person out there at all. But still, there was this indefinite nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, reminding him of the Klingon saying that carelessness was the mother of all trouble. Beckoning with his free arm, he signaled to Kira and the rest of the team that the way was clear. Only a few seconds later, a huddled group of figures scurried along the shadows of the buildings around the open square in the center of the abandoned settlement.

"What do you think?" Kira panted slightly for breath next to the Klingon.

Worf shook his head, still not willing to tear his gaze away from the quiet and deserted open space in front of them. His expression drew into a dark glare as he was obviously already running the situation through in his mind. "It's too calm."

"If that's all," Kira shrugged. "Better than being caught right away. At least we still have the element of surprise on our side."

She quickly moved past the Commander and cautiously peered around the street corner. As expected, there was nothing that seemed out of place. Sighing, she tried to ignore the cold shiver running down her spine and the fine hairs on her arms bristling up despite the warm morning sun. It was as if they were walking through a city of ghosts. And Kira was sure that she didn't like that feeling. No matter if there were Jem'Hadar soldiers around or not – something about this place gave her the jitters.

"How far?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Worf checked his tricorder. "About five hundred meters. The entrance to the ore stock and the open-air grounds is on top of that plateau there." He pointed out toward the north. "But we can't use the main entrance. We don't know how many guards are stationed to oversee the prisoners."

The Major threw a quick look back at their team. The other five team members were still waiting, leaning against the old house wall behind them. She didn't need to be a Betazoid to know that they were as restless and nervous as she was. Focusing her attention back on Worf, she cleared her forehead of sweat.

"We should hurry, the chief must be in position every minute now." Beckoning swiftly to follow her, Kira took over the lead.

It didn't take them long to reach the top of the plateau. With the map Evans had given them back on the _Defiant_, they had found the opening in the town wall, leading them to an overgrown hardly noticeable path in the woods which wound its way up to the hills. After only a few hundred meters the forest had thinned out, leading to a small plateau from which one could oversee the vast expanse of the ore processing facility below. Kira instinctively tightened the grip around her phaser rifle, staring blankly down at the valley.

They had finally found them.

She couldn't tell how many they were, squatting in groups against the ocher and dusty ground but their number was remarkably larger than she had expected. Black, scuttling spots, reminding her of tiny ants, meandering over the dry and cracked ground. Like in those days, back in another world, in another lifetime.

Kira felt a twinge of pain at seeing all those people now in the very same miserable situation she had known only too well. She had sworn to herself to never let such injustice happen again. That's why she was here.

"Mr. Worf, how many?" she managed in a dry voice.

The commander hesitated and slightly tilted his head, his stare directed absently at the valley beneath. "About fifty, I guess."

_Fifty._ That was more than they had expected. _T'Hekal_ had been a small research vessel with a minimum of crew. Kira willed herself to focus her attention back on the adjacent ore processing facility, scanning the area for any signs of surveillance.

"I can see at least a dozen Jem'Hadar soldiers patrolling the area. Most of them concentrated in the northern part of the areal," Worf offered.

"Well, that makes a dozen against seven." She absently passed a hand through her hair. "As soon as Chief O'Brien takes out the security system, we'll be able to get through the security shields. Send the signal to the chief. Now the only thing we can do is wait."

* * *

><p>"Julian!"<p>

Dax' urgent whisper cut like a knife through the heavy silence that had fallen over them ever since the beginning of their mission. It had been almost half an hour since they had separated from Captain Sisko and Chief O'Brien's teams in the south of Northport and about another twenty minutes since Commander Worf and Major Kira had gone off in the direction of the ore stock. They hadn't exchanged any words since then and even the other team members seemed to refrain from engaging in conversation. Julian couldn't tell if it was pure anxiousness that kept them silent and their nerves on edge or just the simple fact that their team leaders weren't very keen on conversing either. Even if it would have bothered him under normal circumstances, walking now silently next to each other was a total different thing. And Julian was grateful for it. The last thing he needed now was discussing things he preferred to put out of his mind. All the more he was now startled to hear Dax' hushed but urgent voice call his name.

"What is it?" he gave back in a pressed tone, casting a dark and slightly confused look back at the young Trill. He involuntarily flinched, when he felt her hand on his arm. Following her gaze, he drew in a sharp breath.

_Jem'Hadar._

"Damn!" The young doctor suppressed another blunt curse and hastily pushed his back flat against the wall behind him. If they were lucky, none of the Jem'Hadar at the far end of the street had seen them so far.

"How many?" Julian asked curtly.

Dax grimaced, trying to get some proper information out of her tricorder. The interferences here were heavier than earlier at the rim of the settlement, making it almost impossible to get any reliable data. "About four or five. They don't seem to have noticed us."

"Okay, let's try another way." Casting a checking look around, Julian took in their situation and beckoned the rest of the team to draw back. It was far too early for an open combat. Even though they stood a good chance of overcoming the enemy, they couldn't risk being discovered this early in their mission. Dax, too, nodded in agreement. "We can go back and take another turn to bypass them. It'll take a little bit longer but it's the only chance we have."

Even when they started to retreat, Julian shoved himself silently in front of Dax. For a short moment the young Trill mused on whether she should directly voice the fact that he hadn't spoken to her in hours. Or that he was treating her with a coldness that under normal circumstances would have hurt even _her_ feelings. Staring at his back, she discarded that thought with a short sigh of resignation. This wasn't exactly the best time to discuss petty things about friendship. No matter how much she was worried about him, no matter how much she wanted to find out what exactly was wrong with him, she also knew that it would have to come second to what was now lying ahead of them.

She followed Bashir and the rest of the away team through the maze-like streets of Northport, hoping that the detour they were forced to take wouldn't cost them too much time. She didn't have any doubt that the chief had already reached his destination and was only waiting for their signal to get down to work. Even Kira and Worf should have made it to the ore stock by now. That only left their little group. Silently cursing their luck, she hurried to keep up with Julian's determined stride. _As if the Jem'Hadar are not the only thing he is running away from._

About to catch up with Bashir, the last of all things she had been prepared for was Ensign Fernandez' startled cry that all of a sudden pulled her thoughts back to the here-and-now.

Whirling round at the sudden commotion, she somehow managed to duck her head in time for an disruptor bolt to streak by only inches to the left side of her face. Churned plaster trickled down on her, Dax already diving to the ground and rolling to the side, not willing to give the attacker a moveless target to aim at. When she hastily staggered to her feet, she saw them. It weren't but three Jem'Hadar soldiers, standing at the far end of the street with the lethal barrel of their rifles directly pointing in her direction. The next thing she saw was a phaser bolt that made one of the attackers stumble back in utter surprise and almost immediately fall in a heap to the ground. In the split of a second she had picked up her own weapon, sending a deadly volley toward the three attackers.

"We have to get out of here! Find cover!"

She recognized Julian's voice over the din and sprinted as fast as her legs would carry her toward on of the hollow house entrances next to her. No sooner had she reached and ducked into its door frame than an energy bolt hit the upper strut of the framework, sending tens of thousands of small metal debris raining down in a shower of golden sparks.

Hastily she scanned the street for the rest of the away team, noticing with dismay that Williams lay motionless on the narrow street's pavement, his arms twisted in an unnatural fashion underneath his unmoving body. The crimson puddle of blood around the man's head made her painfully aware that there was nothing she could do for him any more. Another impact tore her back from her thoughts and with a cry of rage she took out the Jem'Hadar that came rushing toward them. She didn't even need to have a closer look at the scaly alien to know for sure that he was now no more living than Williams lying in the street next to her.

"Julian?"

She stumbled to her feet, loose strands of her black hair tumbling about her face. She once again peered around the corner of the door and immediately drew back before another bolt hit the door frame behind to her.

"Commander?"

Lieutenant Jeffrey came frantically slithering to a halt, crouching down next to her. His long black hair was rumpled and dusty but he didn't seem to be hurt beside a small gush on his left cheek.

"They've surrounded us, Sir," he burst out even before Dax could speak up.

"Where are the others?" Trying to keep her voice as calm as possible she didn't cease to give the enemy a hard time, firing without pause upon the still living Jem'Hadar. Jeffrey scuttled toward the threshold – and did the same.

"On the other side of the street. They got Williams but as far as I can tell everyone else is okay."

Dax nodded. "Let's try to get to them. Otherwise we're trapped in here."

She dashed out of the door, landed and rolled on the dusty ground at the same time, scrambling up in a haste. Her phaser rifle still pointed into the direction of the enemy, she ran under constant fire to where Jeffrey was presuming the other crew members. Ensign Robinson was leaning pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the street, giving her rear cover, shooting at enemies beyond her sight. When only some seconds later Jeffrey arrived next to her, Dax gave him a quick sign to aim for the still living Jem'Hadar that had come sneaking up their backs when they hadn't noticed.

After some more minutes the phaser volley finally died off, leaving back only the heavy smell of churned plaster and scorched wood. Waiting another few moments, Dax dared cautiously peek around the corner. Three dead Jem'Hadar lay sprawled across the dusty street. When she turned around she realized that even on the other far end of the street another gray heap lay lifeless on the ground. The moment of relief lasted only a few seconds, though.

"Where are Dr. Bashir and Ensign Fernandez?" she pressed in alarm.

The young woman next to her just shook her head. "I don't know. Fernandez was panicking and sprinting off in the other direction. I think Dr. Bashir shouted for her to stay but she didn't react and he set off after her. But that's all I could make out in the chaos."

Dax cast an anxious glance around, scanning their surroundings for a sign of the two missing crew members, though there was no trace of either Fernandez or Bashir. Northport's streets were as dead and quiet as before.

"What about Williams?" Robinson didn't dare look into the direction where the Ensigns' corps lay still sprawled on the ground. They obviously had known each other.

Shaking her head, Dax lay a warm hand on the young woman's slightly trembling shoulders. "There's nothing we can do for Williams anymore. We have to go."

"But what about Dr. Bashir and Ensign Fernandez?" Jeffrey's pale features were drawn into an anxious grimace. "The tricorders are barely of use here. How can we find them?"

"Dr. Bashir knows our mission, as does Ensign Fernandez. It's not far to the control room. We can wait for them there. They'll be okay," she tried to put as much confidence into her words as possible. "Let's get going. I'm sure we'll meet the others there." With a last checking look, she urged her remaining team members to follow her once again out into the deserted streets of Northport. She couldn't but hope for her words to prove out true.


	8. Chapter 8

**- Chapter 8 -**

Cautiously, Miles O'Brien let the light of his wrist beacon wander through the thick darkness around him. The smell of mold and dust hung like an impenetrable veil in the air, filling every remotest corner of the desolate main reactor room. The air ventilation support system must have broken down a long time ago, for the only fresh air came curling down in sporadic gusts along the small tunnel they had just laboriously crawled out of. Aside from a few regularly up-flashing lights on a control panel somewhere at the far end of the room, the place was bathed in utter darkness. A quick look at the tricorder readouts told him that they were alone.

"How long will it take, Chief?" Still positioned motionless on the very spot where he had first set foot into the small chamber, Nog didn't bother to hide his nervousness.

"Depends on how tricky this baby is," the Irishman replied and handed the flashlights to the young Ferengi. Then he squatted down and opened his metal tool box with a soft click. The sound reverberated in the silence with an intensity that made Nog flinch.

It wasn't difficult to get off the protective cover beneath what seemed to have been the main console of operation with its display dull and black with the grime of the past years. Leaning the heavy metal plate cautiously on the dusty floor next to him, O'Brien directed his gaze at the tangle of humming, luminescent circuits that appeared behind it. He couldn't help a smile at the familiar sight. Starfleet technology was the very contrary to the nightmarish Cardassian thing called space station back home. It shouldn't be too difficult to override the security system for a short moment without anyone noticing. Not if you knew what you were doing.

"What about the other teams?" O'Brien asked absently as he slid his hands into the humming guts of the main console.

The Ensign glanced at his tricorder. Nervously pressing his lips into a tight line, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was lurking in the shadows behind his back. Down here, deep below the surface, it was as if the darkness around them was like a living thing. He could almost feel its breath in his neck, making an unpleasant chill run through him. He tried to ignore it. This wasn't the time for jumping at shadows, not for a Starfleet officer anyway. But still - had he always been this afraid of darkness? He couldn't remember. For as long as he could think back, he had never given much thought to what would await him when his uncle had sent him off every now and then on secret Ferengi missions. He'd crawled through tiny tunnels, had sneaked into desolate cargo bays on behalf of his uncle more times than he'd been able to count. Never had he felt uncomfortable in any way. Never in those days had the thought crossed his mind that not everything would end as mere child's play. When exactly had it been that he'd become warier of things, less adventure-seeking? He didn't know. The only thing he now knew for sure was that he would give about anything to get out of this place as quickly as possible.

Trying to put these dark thoughts out of his mind, he shook his head and quickly sorted through the data the tricorder was offering. "Captain Sisko and Major Kira have given their OKs." Hesitating he added: "But – there's still no sign of Commander Dax and Dr. Bashir."

Surprised by the unexpected news, O'Brien paused and cocked up his head. He only hoped that Dax and Bashir hadn't encountered any unforeseen problems. There wasn't much time left and now that they had made it into the main reactor room, they couldn't risk waiting any longer. He told himself that the two of them were okay – even though he was very well aware that they should have long since arrived at their expected position...

"As soon as I tell you, Ensign, transfer the start signal to the other teams. I'll disrupt the security system for exactly one minute, but that's all we can do. We need to get done with it before the system runs another security sweep..."

Nog looked up, not sure if to give voice to his concern. "But what about team number four? We haven't received any message yet." He hated himself for his own anxiousness. He'd been trained for situations like this. He'd been trained for what it meant to be a Starfleet officer. But still - this here was different. This was not the academy. This was real life. And in this moment he couldn't help wondering if he was the only one not feeling the confidence everyone else was obviously sharing about their battle against an enemy that seemed way to powerful.

"We cannot take any chances," the chief said firmly. "First of all things, we have to get Captain Sisko and Major Kira into the complex. It's of top priority." For a short moment he locked his eyes with Nog's. "The control room for the security backup system is situated outside the complex. Even if Dr. Bashir and Commander Dax haven't sent the signal yet, there's still time. I'll have to cut off the energy supply before we're discovered. If we don't do it now we won't get a second chance. The system runs a security check every 15 minutes and believe me, you don't want to be here when it finds out what were up to." O'Brien once again turned toward the circuit, sticking his hands deeper into its luminescent guts. "On my sign. Three. Two. One."

As soon as O'Brien had counted down the seconds, Nog punched in the signal for the rest of the away teams. With a slight frown he finally looked up. The mission had started.

Waiting exactly 60 seconds, O'Brien once more combined the severed circuit and with only a few more movements he had worked the protective cover back in place and retrieved the flashlights from the young Ferengi. "Everything else is beyond us, Ensign. Let's wish them good luck," he solemnly said.

Then he climbed back into the vent, Nog following behind him with a dark frown that was swallowed up by the thick darkness around them. Crawling along the tiny air tunnel, it was for the first time that Nog almost unconsciously wished for the lights to go back on.

* * *

><p>Captain Benjamin Sisko pressed himself close against the cool metal bulkhead, his narrowed eyes fixed on the corridor in front of them. The bag he was carrying was heavy and unhandy, cutting unpleasantly into his shoulder, though he tried to ignore the pain and focus on the task at hand. It wouldn't take them long. He cast a swift glance back at Evans who was still kneeling in some distance on the dim-lit floor. Evans had taken off the cover of one of the control panels on one side of the corridor, the exposed circuit's light enveloping the older captain in a soft blue glow while Evans tampered with the mess of technology under his hands. Aside from the meager light of the control panel, the corridor was bathed in a murky twilight with only some standby-lights running along the length of the ceiling.<p>

"How's it going?" Sisko didn't dare raise his voice to more than a whisper. And even this whisper reverberated far too loud in his own ears.

Evans lifted his gaze for a moment. A slight but confident smile crept across his shadowed features. "Not bad so far. I'll set the explosive charge on remote control. As soon as we've installed all three at the right spot, the whole place will be razed to the ground."

He wasn't sure if it was only his imagination but he thought he heard some tint of irony in the elder captain's voice. He didn't have time to dwell on it, though, when Evans put the panel's cover back in place and got to his feet.

"Any sign of Jem'Hadar?"

Sisko drew his own tricorder and skimmed through the readouts. "They're on their way to the main complex. I get the signal of five guards on an interception course. Let's see to it that we get out of here before they get any closer."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Evans once more took the lead, swiftly vanishing without another word in the corridor's dim light ahead. With a last checking look over his shoulder, Sisko followed.

If he was true to himself, Sisko had to concede that the whole mission wasn't nearly as difficult as he'd imagined. Of course he'd been told by Starfleet Intelligence that the complex' reconstruction was far from being completed and that the past three weeks were hardly enough time to bring the whole site back to its former security standards. The planetary defense station orbiting Atholes III was supposed to report any enemy contact that occurred in the planet's vicinity and inform the Dominion about any unusual activity. However, nothing like this had happened in their case. How was the Dominion supposed to know that they'd managed to find a unique loophole that had led them straight to the threshold of Atholes III? The transporter scramblers as well as the energy barrier outside the complex were nothing more than a last firewall in the case of impossible odds. He felt a rush of adrenaline at the mere thought of this special chance fate hat granted them.

An ironic smile crept across Sisko's lips when he followed Evans through the winding tunnels of the former ore processing facility, all bathed in the same dim gray. Should it really be this simple? Was it just about strolling in, distributing some explosive charges and make a bolt for it? Not even the internal monitoring system was online, as if one was thoroughly positive not to be vulnerable so deep behind one's own lines. He couldn't help wondering if the Federation was as negligent within their own boundaries...

But still, somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that things wouldn't go that easy. They'd led a tough war against the Dominion so far and he just wasn't ready to believe that victory could be bought so easily. No, things never went this way. Yet he wasn't able to find any flaw in their well-thought plan. Perhaps he was just too pessimistic?

When Evans abruptly stopped, he almost bumped into the elder man. "What is it?" he asked in alarm.

Evans turned, his face suddenly paler than minutes before. "That was the easy part, Benjamin. The bomb at the reactor distributor junction was the remotest from the center of the site. In order to get to the open-air grounds to place the next device, we'll have to make it through the main hall."

Sisko's face grew dark when he grasped the meaning of Evans' solemn words. "And that's exactly where it's literally teeming with Jem'Hadar soldiers…"

"We don't have any other choice. We need to place the remaining two explosive charges on the connection to the main hall and the access door to the open-air grounds," Evans stated, letting his gaze wander along the corridor ceiling. "But we can use the ventilation conduit. They will probably have a hard time to track us down there thanks to the security grid enveloping the tunnels. Too much interferences," Evans chuckled humorlessly.

Frowning, his face took on a faraway look as if he was deep in thought. "We just need to find an access to the air ventilation system."

Sisko nodded and readjusted the strap of his bag. "Let's go then."

* * *

><p>"Fernandez!"<p>

His cry was a mixture of anger and worry. He still couldn't believe that the young woman had run away in the face of combat so easily. He couldn't just leave her behind but at the same time he was painfully aware that he was running out of time. The delay with the Jem'Hadar had cost them precious time. If he wasn't able to find her very soon, he would have no other choice than to head alone for the control room...

Keeping to the shadows of the tall buildings around him, and casting a wary glance into the deserted hallways on both sides of the small cobblestone street, he felt the queasy and oppressive feeling in his stomach grow. The pain was almost physical. He wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that he'd been mostly running on adrenaline ever since they had come down to the planet or if the unnatural stress of the last days was finally claiming its tribute. With every step he took he felt uneasier, as if he was intruding into things that were never meant to be uncovered. Things that had long ago become a part of history. The whole town still seemed so much alive after all those years of oblivion. Northport felt like a ghost town. The quietly purling river winding its way like a throbbing vein through the city, the leaves of the trees gently swaying in the wind. He didn't even have to close his eyes to see the former city so full of life before his mind's eye. It was as if the picture was already there in his mind – just waiting to be called forth by the lonely sight that was surrounding him now.

He finally found her leaning crestfallen against the wall of a small overgrown building, her face as white as chalk and her shoulders trembling heavily. Apart from the dust that was covering the upper part of her body and must have come from their short encounter with the Jem'Hadar, she seemed unhurt. She suddenly lifted her gaze when she heard him approach, looking at him with an expression of pain and fear. Slowly he tried to near her, shoving back his own initial anger about her sudden flight. She was still fairly young and perhaps it was one of her first assignments.

"Ensign, everything's okay now, you're safe," he tried to calm her, raising both hands so as to underline his words.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she managed with chopped breath, reluctantly turning to face him. "I didn't want to run away but – there were the first shots and … I'm so sorry." Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes. She let her gaze drop back to her feet, staring numbly at the dusty ground.

"Just calm down," Julian tried again with as much sympathy as he could muster. "We're safe. The Jem'Hadar who attacked us are dead." At least he hoped so. For the both of them. He kept his thoughts to himself, though.

"We have to get to the control room. The others are already waiting for us. Are you hurt?" Julian gently urged and took a step closer.

Her sudden cry of pain made a jolt of horror surge through his veins when a disruptor bolt hit her all at once square in the upper part of her body, burning a fist-thick hole through the young Ensign's chest. Staring incredulously back at him, eyes wide with fear and disbelief, she immediately sagged to the ground, her head hitting the ground in a fashion that would have made Julian's stomach turn if he'd had the time to dwell on it much longer than a second. It was exactly one split of this second that saved Julian his life when he instinctively whirled around, already anticipating what was going on around him. Before another bolt could slam into the only living target left, Julian threw himself into the door frame to his left, blindly firing into the direction from which the first shot had come.

Obviously one of the Jem'Hadar had followed them and opened fire as soon as Fernandez and Bashir had given an easy target. He scolded himself for having let his guard down in the wrong moment and fired once again at the scaly alien enemy. His shot hit the building's outer wall in the Jem'Hadar's back, leaving behind an ugly black hole in the once white plaster.

Hastily Julian's eyes darted to where Fernandez had gone down. The young woman lay motionless on the other side of the street, the blood gushing out of the jagged hole in her chest already forming crimson puddles around her unmoving body. Closing his eyes for only a short moment, Julian's jaw tightened. He was no longer able to help her. She was already dead.

With a cry of rage he aimed another shot at their attacker. His mind raced. He had to get out of here. If he didn't get out of his cover he wouldn't have any chance of winning this fight and if he was trapped in here any longer he wouldn't make it to the control room in time. He knew that the others relied on him. He didn't dare imagine what would happen if he wasn't there for keying in the security code.

He desperately spun around to search for a way out – and found one. Another door was leading out into the courtyard behind the small room he'd retreated into. If he was able to find a way round his enemy, he stood a good chance of ambushing the Jem'Hadar soldier from behind.

Julian scrambled to his feet and with another last shot from his vantage point he sprinted for the back door of the desolate room, turning right as soon as his feet hit the solid ground of the cobblestone alley. If he made it round the block he'd come out exactly some meters behind the Jem'Hadar's current position. Without hesitation he began to run, ever following the street until a sudden and unexpected disruptor bolt churned the spot his boots had passed only seconds before. Instinctively he whirled around, firing blindly in front of him while in the same time he let his body drop to the ground and roll to the side to evade another hit. Staggering up to his feet he squinted into the direction the energy bolt had come from – and could discern a sunken down figure at the far end of the street. He didn't even have to have a second look to know that his shot had hit home. The Jem'Hadar worrier was a dead as Fernandez.

Still panting heavily for breath, he propped himself on his knees, trying to get his thumbing heart back under control. Clearing his forehead of sweat, he tried to organize his tumbling thoughts. With Fernandez dead and Dax and the others already on their way to the control room there weren't many alternatives left. He had to get to them. As quickly as possible.

Padding off the dust of his uniform, he suddenly paused for a moment, a dark shadow crossing his pale features. His combadge was missing. He'd probably lost it during the chaos of the first attack, most likely when one of the disruptor impacts right next to him had hurled him to the ground, before Julian had noticed Fernandez running away and followed her. But there was nothing he could do about it now. There wasn't much time left and going back was out of the question.

With a last assessing look around, he slung the phaser rifle over his shoulder and set off for the control room.

* * *

><p>Cautiously she neared the group of prisoners sitting in a semi-circle on the dry ground in the warm and dazzling morning sun. She tried to make herself as small as possible when she ducked behind a pile of ore stacks, counting the seconds until the guard patrolling the area in some distance would turn his back on her and march off in the other direction. None of the guards had noticed them so far. The Jem'Hadar strolling now away from her had not the slightest idea of what he was in for. With an ironic smile, Kira peered back in the direction Commander Worf had vanished into some time earlier, not sure if he would be able to manage to warn the other prisoners in time.<p>

She scanned through her tricorder readouts and exhaled a short breath of relief when almost all prisoners showed up within a radius of only 500 meters. That made things easier. The red point moving in a circle about the small display, however, still set her teeth on edge.

One of the other Jem'Hadar had detached himself from the rest of his group and was heading directly toward her. She clamped down on the growing urge to jump up and burn a nice little hole into the soldier's chest. They still hadn't received the signal that Sisko and Evans had been successful. As soon as the bombs were securely set within the complex and the first one of the explosive charges went off, severing the open-air grounds from the rest of the facility's security system, it would be on her to bring all prisoners safely back home. With another glance at the chronometer she tried to calm her breath. The show was about to start every minute now.

Making sure that no one was watching, she left her cover and ran over to the small group in front of her. Not sure if it was pure luck or irony of fate, she silently thanked the Prophets for the small gathering to be held in a rather remote part of the open-air grounds. At least for the next few moments she would be able to have a secret talk with the people sitting down at her feet.

She wasn't even surprised at finding the faces of all assembled men and women turn to her, a quizzical look on each of them. Slithering to a halt, she suddenly felt short of breath, though a knowing nod of one of the Vulcans told her he already knew why she was here.

"We're here to bring you back home," she finally managed between clenched teeth.

* * *

><p>Jadzia Dax anxiously paced the deserted control room.<p>

It hadn't taken them long to find the right place in the northern part of the city – aloof from the rest of all the other buildings. Although the door had been locked at the time of their arrival, they had managed to pry it open with one of the phaser rifles, firing their way into the control center. Inside, yet another layer of dust was covering a large array of flickering monitors and displays, making the young Trill wonder how much of the technical equipment was still functioning after all the years.

Jeffrey sat on one of the few swivel chairs, his face devoid of any emotion, whereas Robinson cast anxious glances toward the entrance every now and then.

"What if they got them?" The young woman asked in concern.

Dax cast her a reproachful look but realized then that the Ensign's question wasn't actually that out of place. What if really something had happened to Julian and Fernandez?

"If Dr. Bashir isn't able to key in the code for the security backup system, everything will be for nothing." Jeffrey's tone was as emotionless as his face, though Dax was sure that inside he felt no less agitated than Robinson.

The young Trill decisively shook her head. "I'm sure they're well."

"But why aren't they here then? It's been already more than twenty minutes that we lost them. The control room isn't that far away from where we got separated. Ensign Fernandez and Dr. Bashir ought to be here by now!"

She was right. And Dax knew it.

"What do we do now?" Robinson's words reverberated unpleasantly in the empty control chamber.

"Try to pin down Dr. Bashir's coordinates," Jadzia replied. She knew that the position scramblers were making it almost impossible to get a proper scan of the area. But what else could she do? Go searching for both officers when she not even knew where to start?

Shaking her head with a slight frown, Robinson stared down at the tricorder's blinking display. "It's not working. I can't locate him." She bit her lower lip.

Dax knit her brows. "Try cutting down the sensor range. They cannot be far."

"I don't get any signal. I can't fix a position. Either his combadge is malfunctioning or…" She let the rest of the sentence taper off, though the young Trill knew what she was alluding to. Either he'd lost his combadge during the fight and it had been damaged on the way – or he'd still worn it when it had been taken out. She clung to the first explanation.

Without another thought, she sat down in front of the main console and let her fingers dance over the black display. Behind her, Jeffry drew himself up.

"You don't intend to type the security code in by yourself, do you?"

Without looking up from her work, she kept staring at the monitor and the endless row of numbers rattling down in front of her. She at least had to try. Even though she knew that she would never be able to imitate Julian's skills, it was their only chance.

"The mission hasn't failed, yet. I'll try and override the sub-system by myself."

Jeffrey and Robinson both shot her a disbelieving look.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but honestly, you'll never be fast enough." She knew that Jeffrey's words weren't meant as a reproach. And she knew that he was probably right.

Dax finally looked up and met his eye. "I know. Let's hope that Dr. Bashir and Ensign Fernandez make it here in time."

* * *

><p>Benjamin Sisko literally felt the sweat pearl on his forehead. This was the last bomb, on the access door to the open-air grounds.<p>

After they'd installed the second bomb in the ventilation conduit right above the connection to the main room, the whole mission would have been doomed by a hair's breadth. Thinking back at those few decisive moments, he still felt the hairs of his arms bristle up. They'd squeezed through the small and narrow vent and had finally gotten to the position of the access point to the open-air grounds. Evans had attached the explosive charge while Sisko had dared to take a glance through the ventilation grid into the main hall.

The sight had made him gasp for breath. He just couldn't recall having ever seen so many birthing chambers in one place before, a loyal worrier of the Dominion arising from each of them in only a few weeks. It wasn't but a matter of time. How were they supposed to prevail against such superiority? No matter how bad Starfleet's position to win the war over the last months had been, if fate didn't lend them a helping hand very soon, Starfleet and the whole alpha quadrant wouldn't survive the next years.

It was so startling but nevertheless real a thought that it made Sisko involuntarily doubt they were able to manage what they were about to do. Destroying another Dominion weapons factory and cloning facility, most likely killing some hundred worriers along the way, wouldn't but delay the production of new clones for some unknown amount of time. But what then? What after some weeks, months, years? How many facilities were out there, existing without Starfleet or anyone even knowing? It was like fighting against impossible odds.

A sudden commotion accompanied by low and unpleasant voices deep down below the ventilation grid had torn him back from his thoughts at that time. Snatching Evans' uniform sleeve and bringing his attention to what was going on below, Sisko had held his breath.

Hearing the quiet beeping of the sensor device in the corridor below, Sisko had pressed himself flat against the floor, although he'd known that it wouldn't save them from being detected. The Jem'Hadar's gaze had wandered up along the ventilation conduit and then remained fixed on the tiny ventilation grid. It was exactly in that moment that Sisko had known that the queasy and anxious feeling in his stomach had been right all from the beginning. Tightening the grip around the phaser, his eyes had been fixed on the Jem'Hadar, waiting for any suspicious movement that told him that the enemy was aware of their being here. Only seconds before the Jem'Hadar soldiers could have opened his mouth to doom their fate, the First, an Alpha and thus outranking the other one – most likely a Gamma – had come marching over from the main hall in big determined strides. With only a few steps he'd positioned himself right under the air vent, pointing the tip of his weapon at the Gamma's chest and berating him for his lacking will to make himself useful in their mission. With another bark, he had ordered him back to the inspection of the malfunctioning birthing chamber he had been supposed to work on when the First had run into him. How could the First have known that his subordinate had almost saved their all lives with his sensor scanning. The Gamma had obeyed the Alpha's instructions without comment and only a few seconds later they'd marched both off into the direction of the main hall, though the shock of the short encounter still gripped Sisko to the marrow.

"That should be enough. Let's signal to the others that we're ready," Evans grinned, bringing Sisko back from his thoughts.

Sisko returned a subtle nod. "Acknowledged. As soon as we're out, the party begins."

* * *

><p>Hurrying along the silent streets of Northport, his phaser rifle pressed determinedly against his chest, he only realized that he had lowered his tempo when he found himself slightly out of breath in the middle of what must have been one of the main streets leading up to the center square of the former settlement. Panting, Julian propped himself on his knees and squinted up against the dazzling morning light bathing the scenery around him in a warm and soft ember glow. He wasn't sure why exactly he had stopped. He knew that the encounter with the Jem'Hadar had cost them precious time and that time was exactly what he didn't have right now. He had no doubt that Dax and the rest of the team had already made it to the control room, most likely already waiting impatiently for his arrival. Counting back the hours since they had separated from O'Brien and the others in the south of Northport, his calculation told him that Sisko and Evans must have already gotten down to work with setting the bombs inside the facility.<p>

At the thought, he felt his heartbeat anxiously quicken. At the same time he was painfully aware that if he didn't hurry and made it to the others in time, he'd seal their all fates - and the mere thought of it made a wave of nausea wash over him. The image of Ensign Fernandez going down right in front of his eyes, her crimson blood sputtering out of the ragged hole burned through her chest without him being able to help the young woman still made him shiver with horror. Suppressing a shudder at the memory, he tried to pull his thoughts back to the here-and-now. No, he had no desire to see the rest of his comrades being sent to heaven's gates in the same ugly fashion. Not if he could prevent it. Turning round back the way he had come, he quickly scanned his surroundings for any sign of pursuit, realizing with relief that he was alone. No trace of any Jem'Hadar. Apart from the rustling of the trees and the faint morning breeze, the street was filled with utter silence.

His fingers tightened unconsciously around the shaft of his weapon when he drew a long breath to calm himself. Was this why his knees felt like rubber, as if they refused to support him much longer? Why he felt very much like he was about to redo his medical finals? He knew that slowly but surely he was running out of adrenaline, the effect leaving him light-headed and dizzy. Shaking his head to banish the haze out of his mind, he slowly started walking again.

He didn't make it far, though.

Almost against his will, he once again came to a halt, only realizing that he had stopped after a few more seconds. Unsure and slightly confused about his own behavior, he turned yet again to take a checking look around – and suddenly cringed when a gust of wind whipped at his uniform sleeve, making him stumble back in surprise until he found his balance again. Perplexed, he blinked several times. The street around him was empty. He absently rubbed his arm and stared back in the direction from where he had come. It must have been his imagination. But still, he could have sworn that he had just felt someone run by, brushing his arm while passing him. And... he could have sworn that he had heard voices.

It sounded like... the laughter... of children?

He felt the fine hairs of his arms bristle up, not sure what to make of the situation. Either his mind was playing tricks on him due to the unnatural stress he'd been suffering from lately – or he was about to lose his mind. He clung to the former. Turning in circles, he suddenly couldn't shake the feeling that something was sneaking up on him from behind his back. It was a dark and frightening feeling, making him wish he weren't all alone out here. He couldn't explain it – but it was unsettling all the same. _Pull yourself together, Julian. This is not the right time for jumping at shadows_. Hallucinating or not, the last thing he wanted to do now was to stand still. Or to turn his back on the lonely part of the street where he had come from.

Squinting anxiously at both sides of the street in a futile effort to prepare himself for whatever might be lurking in the shadows, he awkwardly stumbled a few feet on – just to stop again dead in his track. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to the shadow towering right in front of him.

It was one of the many vacant houses that were lining the street. Its ocher paint had come off at some places, its window panes covered in dust. Some moss-covered stone stairs led to a weathered brown front door. Right next to the entrance was a tiny garden that was now almost overgrown with wild flowers and thick tufts of fern. One single tree stood firm and solid in the garden next to the door, the saturated green of its entwined branches a stark contrast to the earthen color of the building's walls behind it.

Rooted to the spot, Julian stared numbly at the old house, a strange feeling gripping his guts at the sight. He couldn't quite place it. But there was something... something about this place... He wasn't able to put his finger on it. But somehow he had the feeling that it was important. It was like a fleeting thought in the corner of his mind, popping out of reach as soon as he tried to grasp it.

Frowning, he absently lowered his weapon and ventured closer.

The place was as deserted as the rest of the city, enveloped in an eerie quiet. The only sound disturbing the silence came from the rustling leaves above his head.

Ignoring the urging voice in the back of his mind that kept admonishing him that he was running out of time, he started walking toward the house before he was even aware of it. His eyes narrowed as he tried to discern what it was that was so special about the place. Hesitantly he climbed the overgrown stairs of stone until he stood in front of the old door. When he gingerly pushed it, he wasn't even surprised at finding it unlocked...

The door swung open with a soft creak, revealing the outlines of a staircase in its murky shadow. It was like a silent invitation to enter. Slightly unsure, Julian squinted against the unnatural darkness, trying to see through the black veil in front of him though his gaze met only blackness. For a short moment he was hit by an overwhelming sensation of falling down the black void gaping in front of him, making him involuntarily reach out for the door frame to support himself until the dizziness had passed. Then he slowly poked his head through the gap in the door – and reluctantly entered. He more felt his way along the cool and uneven wall to his right than he actually saw anything, the wall beneath his palm surprisingly cool to his touch. Taking one cautious step after another, he felt his stomach tighten painfully the farther he made it into the darkness. At some point he wondered what he was actually doing here, remembering that there was something else he needed to do. Something important. But his mind was in a fog that made it so hard to think. When he got to the second floor he numbly stared at the door he'd reached. It felt so unreal. Like in a dream. His hand almost automatically reached for the handle. When he pushed it, the door gave way with a loud squeal.

The apartment inside was remarkably brighter. Light spilled in through the old, grime-covered windows and bathed the whole room into a soft, golden twilight. Even here time had left its traces. Both floor and furniture were thick with dust, the air carrying a stale and moldy smell. Julian shoved himself deeper into the room, holding his breath at the sight.

Everything lay scattered the way one had left it.

It hadn't been much the colonists had taken with them. Many things that weren't worth much but surely had been held dear by the inhabitants still lay on their places, like silent witnesses of an age long gone by. Yellowed pictures, hardly visible under the veil of dust, still hung at the walls, an old-fashioned clock, its hand frozen in time, stood silent and forgotten on one of the shelves at the far end of the room. The carpet that must have been running the length of the floor was barely recognizable as such, crumbled to dust under his feet. Letting his gaze wander in awe about the ghostly scenery that unfolded in front of him, he felt queasiness settle in his stomach. Unable to move, he just stood there, sucking in shallow breaths while time around him stood still.

It was disturbing a sight. So many abandoned hopes and dreams. So many things left undone. What he saw here were the silent remains of a world long gone by. A world abandoned to its fate. A world no one was ever supposed to come back to.

And he felt so sad. He felt so sorry for all the lives, for all the hopes and dreams that had to end here. He couldn't tell why. He just felt a whirl of emotions surge through his stomach at the sight. Swallowing hard against the tightness in his throat, he finally managed to tear his gaze away – at the same time awaking from the stupor his mind had been in for the past several moments. Blinking, it was like reality was slowly seeping back into his consciousness again. He needed some more seconds until he realized where he was and that he was far from being on his way to the control room. The realization made him flinch. What on earth was he doing here? Berating himself for his foolishness, he took a deep breath and suppressed the subsequent cough at the dust and decay that hung in the air. With all his remaining strength, he turned his back on the scenery. He was running out of time.

It was the moment when he was about to step over the threshold back into the shadow of the stairs that his gaze fell upon yet another door to his left. Pushing the handle, he found it locked.

He shouldn't have bothered and left immediately for the control room, but still - he couldn't will himself to move. Something held his mind in an iron grip, knocking out whatever smidgen of rationality had been left. He once more shook the door knob, this time harder. When the door wouldn't give way, he all at once threw himself with all his weight against it, breaking it open by force. The door finally burst open, Julian stumbling in, driven by his own momentum. Struggling to find his balance, he tumbled a few steps into the room, whirling up a cloud of dust in his wake.

The room wasn't very big. A single bed was standing right under the only window of the room, the blue bed covers neatly arranged over once-white sheets. On the upper end he saw some piles of what must have been plush toys. Taking one of them in his hands, his eyes met those of a smiling fluffy brown teddy bear.

Paralyzed and suddenly unable to move, Julian stared at the old bear in his hands, the bear's eyes stabbing right through his very self. He... knew these eyes…

…_do that now of all things…_

Startled, he spun around, the sudden movement drowning his vision in blackness for a moment. He squinted against the ever growing queasy feeling in his stomach and tried to blink the little stars away, quickly scanning the room for intruders. Bars of sunlight cast through rents in the old window made motes of dust glitter where his footsteps had whirled them up in the air. Aside from the few furniture in the room, he was alone though. No trace of Jem'Hadar – or any other living person.

The teddy bear carelessly slipped from his grip, when his gaze fell on the wooden desk next to the door of the tiny room. Unable to tear his eyes from the sight, he was propelled forward by some inner voice, until he numbly came to a halt in front of it. Some stationary lay still scattered on its top, the surface of the dark brown wood chipped at some places, though it was the square picture hanging not far above it that held Julian's attention. Hesitantly, he took it off the wall. His heart was pounding up to his throat, his slightly trembling fingers clamped around the small frame as if life itself depended on it. Gingerly, he passed one sleeve of his uniform over the dusty glass.

A child's picture.

_...His_ picture...

The tree, the quietly purling river, the green meadow with the tree people. And the raven she'd never seen. It was all there, covered under the layer of white dust, preserved like an insect in ember.

Taken aback, Julian stared blankly at the frame in his hands. It took him some moments until his dizzy mind caught up with the situation. But there was no doubt. He knew it with a dead certainty and the realization made his heart stop dead in his chest. It was the picture of his dreams. The picture of his nightmares. He felt the blood in his veins run cold, an icy dread washing over him at the sight of the thing he had least of all expected to find here. Here of all places. Here in the unlikeliest of all situations. It was impossible, yet at the same time so terribly real. The knuckles of his fists turned a pale white when he stared in horror at the small frame in his hands. It felt as if he had just come full circle to his darkest nightmare, staring once again into the black abyss on whose rim he had been balancing all the last days. The black abyss with its impenetrable darkness that had haunted him throughout the meager hours of rest he had granted his exhausted body, and the long hours of wakefulness when he had tried to run from it, never able to escape its clutches completely, never able to hide from himself.

And within an instant, he was there again. The darkness, the loneliness, the despair. It all came rushing back like a torrent that broke through a dam, filling his mind with images and emotions he had so desperately tried to suppress. Nothing could have prepared him for the surge of dread that came with it, flooding every corner of his strained body until he shook with fear.

…_you know what we've given up for you…_

With a loud and ugly chink the glass frame shattered into a thousand of glittering pieces the instant it made contact with the floor. And with it, so did something deep within Julian. Unable to tear his gaze away from the mess of broken glass and paper at his feet, his eyes grew wide with disbelief and denial.

It was impossible. They were only dreams after all...

His trembling grew heavier. His whole body was so tensed up that it felt as if it would shatter under the enormous pressure. With clenched fists he shook his head in bewilderment, trying desperately to awaken from the nightmare, the rational part in him struggling to convince him that this was not real. That this _could_ not be real. He felt like he wanted to cry.

No, something was utterly wrong here. Stumbling awkwardly backward, he didn't dare take his eyes off the broken glass, at the same time feeling the walls around him coming closer. Feeling the dark shapeless blackness building around him. He didn't know what was going on. He only knew that he had to get out of here. _Now_. Everything in him was urging him to run for his life and he would have done so weren't it for the overwhelming dread that made it impossible for him to move. He knew that his life depended on it. But he just couldn't will his body to obey.

Nausea hit him.

Throwing the back of his hand over his mouth, he staggered back. He couldn't think. His mind was racing. But he couldn't find any clear thought. _Get out of here_. He choked helplessly when another surge of queasiness washed over him. He felt so sick. So sick to his bones.

His vision started to blur, the ground to his feet lurching this way and that while he desperately tried to find his way out. His head felt as if someone was giving him a beating with a club. At the same time his heart was pounding so painfully as if it was going to burst. It hurt so much. Grabbing at his uniform shirt, he squeezed his eyes shut. God, why did it hurt so much?

…_stop it…will you stay here…_

Pure instinct made him whirl around at the sudden voice and jerk both arms protectively in front of his face with a terrified cry. Only faintly was he aware that his legs were no longer supporting his body, the floor coming crashing toward him. The breath was knocked out of his lungs. His whole world spun in a blinding whirl of shapes and colors before his vision was drowned by the searing pain in his forehead. Unable to comprehend what was going on around him, he flailed out against the sudden sensation of falling. Panic seized him. A panic so deep and consuming, so terrifying and overwhelming that it made him sob with torment. _Make it stop! Make it stop!_

_...everything you can do is ruin..._

_Go away!_ _Leave me alone!_ He no longer felt his body. Sucked down ever farther into the darkness, there was only one thing his mind was able to grasp through the thick cloud of despair. This time it wasn't a dream. It was terribly real. They were coming. They were coming for him. And he cried out against the dark mass that instantly collapsed down on him, drowning him in its icy floods.

…_naughty and ungrateful…_

* * *

><p><em>Her grip was as hard and unyielding as iron, yanking him relentlessly toward his room. His arm was on fire where she had seized him, his cheek burning from the slap she'd given him. He cried. He'd put so much effort into drawing the picture for her. He couldn't understand why she wouldn't like it. She was so mad at him and he just didn't know why. But he didn't need to. She mustn't hurt him again. As long as she wouldn't hurt him again, he'd stop crying. He knew that his crying just furthered her anger. But it hurt so much. Deep down in his heart it hurt so much. <em>

_She knocked him into the children's room. He didn't dare move, just burrowed his face between his arms while she kept yelling at him._

"_How dare you? Don't you think we already have enough problems without you?" Her voice was almost cracking. She was standing motionless and with trembling shoulders in the door._

"_Every day we're reminded. Every single, damn day!"_

_Her voice calmed down a bit, adopting a tinge of bitterness when she finally said: "But not today, Jules. Not today. It's enough. Today is my day. A day without you and your existence. The only thing you bring us is trouble. You dashed all our hopes the day you were born!" Tears were running down her glowing cheeks. "I never asked for it, Jules, and I'm not willing to bear this burden for the rest of my life. Today is my day. Only today I can pretend to lead a normal life. A life without the constant care. A life without you."_

_He heard the bang of the door and even though he didn't understand the meaning of her words, he knew that he'd deeply hurt her. He couldn't stop crying. Hot tears were rolling down his face and he buried himself under the blue bed cover, spasmodically clinging to the brown fluffy teddy bear in his arms._

_##########  
><em>

_He wasn't hungry but he knew that she would get angry if he didn't eat. Drumming up all of his concentration he tried to lift the piece of cake onto the fork. Even before it reached his lips, it once again fell down on his plate. He tried a second time but he just didn't manage. He didn't even have to look up to feel her piercing stare._

_He hadn't wanted to come to the table but she hadn't given him any choice. The pain was still ablaze in his chest though he somehow managed to hold back the tears. She'd forced him to sit with them and eat. But why had she locked him into his room in the first place? Why was she so angry with him and wanted him to sit in front of her now?_

_When he finally dared to lift his gaze, the unknown lady smiled at him. She was so different and nice. Sheepishly he almost automatically returned the smile before he focused back on his plate._

_He didn't know what they were talking about and no one was talking to him. He sat there, trying to lift the piece of cake to his lips but never quite succeeded. Why didn't he manage? He didn't know._

_It was again the unknown woman, helping him with a smile to pick up the cake. He knew that one. It was one of his favorite games. With the strange woman holding his fork he managed to finally get it into his mouth, grinning happily._

_The sudden clatter next to him made him wince. He knew this expression of hers. So she still was angry with him…_

_He never spoke a word and kept staring at the floor beneath his feet. Suddenly something furry streaked his legs. Instinctively he reached out for the fluffy thing. It felt comforting and soft, purring as he gently stroke its back. Smiling, he picked up a piece of cake for it._

"_Jules, that's enough now! The cat has his own food." The voice was cold and resolute._

_Jules didn't dare look up, his gaze following the furry thing that slowly padded away. "My I?"_

_He didn't even wait for a response, setting off behind it into the corridor and into his room, though the fluffy thing never dwelt long at the same place. He finally gave it up and went back to his room. No one would miss him. He knew that they were glad not to have him with them and the long suppressed tears once again rolled down his small cheeks._

_##########  
><em>

_The sudden cry made him wince and quickened his heartbeat. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting alone in his room. Had the strangers already left? Hastily he ran over to the door, reaching for the handle to peek through the small gap in the door._

_She was standing in the adjacent kitchen, holding the furry thing seized in one fist above the ground. She was hurting it. He was sure. She was hurting it. _

_The meow made him finally fearfully leave his room. She had to stop!_

"_Damn, Jules, look what your cat's done! He ate the food!" She was seething with rage, casting him an angry and reproachful look while she continued to shake the furry thing by its neck._

_It was too much for him. Screaming, he ran over to her, batting her legs with his small fists. She had to stop. She was hurting it._

_Even before he knew what happened, the thing jumped from her grip, rounding the corner as fast as lightning. _

_She jerked him off her, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him violently. "Don't you dare touch me, Jules!" Then she seized his wrist, pulling him behind her once again into the children's room. Her face was contorted with anger when she finally shut the door and turned the key. Once again he was alone in the darkness._

_##########  
><em>

_An eternity went by before he heard footsteps again. Fearfully, he pressed the teddy bear closer to his chest. He knew that they were coming. He had made them angry and now they were coming to punish him. Trembling heavily, he curled deeper into the darkness under his desk._

_When a burly figure appeared in the door frame, his first instinct was to run over to him. He loved them so much, what did he do wrong? Why didn't they love him the same way. His heart was aching for an embrace but he couldn't will his body to move._

"_Get out of there, Jules!"_

_He wanted to answer but couldn't bring forth a single word. Frantically, he pressed himself deeper into the shadow under his desk._

"_Get out of there, I said!" Roughly the figure snatched his arm, pulling him out of the darkness. Jules couldn't but stare in bewilderment at the huge figure that kept him in his iron grip. He didn't dare put up a fight._

"_What was that with your mother supposed to mean? She's been looking forward to this occasion for days and everything you can do is ruin it?" The voice was cold and punishing._

_Jules shook his head. "I…"_

"_Do you know what we've given up for you? Do you know how much we had to sacrifice for you? And this is your way of showing your gratitude?" His composure was slipping with every second. "Naughty and ungrateful you are! But be sure of it, Jules, I'll have you learn your lesson. If not with reason then with other means."_

_The moment he let go of him, he instantly broke into tears. He couldn't think of anything else but what they were going to do to him – and all of a sudden he panicked. Haggardly he yanked his arm free and started to run. Blind with fear he dashed into her, feeling her strong hands on his shoulders though his fear lent him powers he never knew he had. He flailed out, biting and kicking. Her slap in the face made his head fly to the side but he kept screaming in tears and finally made it out of her grip._

_He tripped, crashed to the floor and staggered up again. They were going to hurt him. It was his only thought. They were so mad and they were going to hurt him so much._

_The only thing he could concentrate on was the door. He would make it if he got to the door in time._

_He hit the wood full-force, his hand touching the handle though his trembling fingers just wouldn't work._

_Turning round in fear, he saw their angry faces. He frantically threw both arms up in protection when the first blow sent him to the floor. He didn't have time to brace himself for the pain that was coming. He lashed out with all his might, screamed and cried, when blows followed blows, until his vision coalesced into a meaningless mass where there existed nothing but pain, tears and despair. He barely felt being lifted up and being pushed back against the wall when his consciousness went astray in the chaos of pain._

* * *

><p>"Captain Sisko has sent the signal!" Robinson was nearly panicking when she read out the tricorder's data. Against all hope, Dr. Bashir hadn't come to the control room which meant that he was hurt – or much worse: even dead.<p>

Dax didn't look up, her fingers dancing over the control panel. "How long, Ensign?"

"A few minutes I guess."

* * *

><p>"Sir, the security patrol hasn't reported back, yet."<p>

The Jem'Hadar was standing off to the side, waiting for a reply from the First who was still busy with inspecting the newly constructed birthing chambers. Turning back to his inferior, his scaly face drew into a grimace of pure anger.

"What do you mean by the security patrol hasn't reported back, yet? What happened?"

The other stepped nervously closer. "We haven't received any status report yet. They might have been attacked. We should send reinforcements."

The First's lips curled up into a sneering grin, as he kept the other fixed in his stare. "You Gammas aren't just poor fighters but also cowards. What kind of resistance is there to meet? Ghosts?"

The other Jem'Hadar didn't dare defend himself even though he detested the First with all his heart. Presumptuous and arrogant. That was a trait of character that had never been part of the design of the Gammas.

"Than send two of your men to check it out. And now don't you dare bother me during my work again, Gamma."

Without another word the inferior saluted and hurried out of the main hall.

"Sir, I'm picking up an increased radiation on the access point to the open-air grounds!"

The First spun around. "Cause?"

"Unknown, but it looks like the energy supply is leaking," came the immediate reply from the Jem'Hadar bending over his console and intensively studying the readouts.

"Then see to it that it gets repaired!" the barking voice of the elder resounded from the walls.

"It's not possible, Sir. The cause seems to be external, but…" A rolling thunder cut off his words in mid-sentence.

"Security alert!" the First roared, but too late. The floor's trembling grew heavier, throwing them off their feet even before anyone had the chance to realize what was happening. With another skull-rattling thunder, a blast of fire erupted from the corridor only seconds after the explosion had gone off.

* * *

><p>When a group of shadowy figures on the other side of the open-air grounds drew themselves up, Kira knew that Worf had been successful. With a swift nod of encouragement toward the group of prisoners, Kira tightened the grip around her phaser rifle.<p>

A dozen Jem'Hadar guards against seven. The odds were in their favor.

Decisively, she beckoned the others to keep their heads down. And no moment too soon.

The explosion that followed only seconds later almost threw them off their feet. Thunder roared through the air, the whole ground shaking and lurching like under a painful moan. The impact was stronger than she'd expected. Squinting against the black rain of soot that fell down all around them, her eyes caught the thick black column of smoke that was sneaking up toward the blue and cloudless sky. Immediately the shrieking of sirens filled the air. This was the sign they'd been waiting for.

She urged the others to hurry, hastily counting their number to make sure that no prisoner would be left behind. Then she started off behind them toward the direction of the main gate. The energy barrier should have been taken down by the explosion. They just had to make it there.

The first shot hit the ground only a few meters next to her, whirling up dust and smoke, though she'd already reckoned with as much. Spinning round, she opened fire at the enemy, taking out one scaly alien after another while she tried to give the prisoners as much rear cover as possible. Shouting over the din of weapons fire, she urged them to hurry. At the same time she realized that the energy bolts had changed their direction. She found herself now in the middle of it, the chaos of smoke, fire and lightning painting a vivid picture of what so many peoples would call hell.

It wasn't very different from back in those times. This here was her element. And today she'd win.

* * *

><p>Sisko couldn't hear what exactly Evans was shouting behind his back, though he didn't even have to in order to know what the older captain was saying. They'd scurried out of the now smoke-filled hallway shortly before the first bomb had detonated and had hurried toward the spot where the security force field had once cut off the open-air grounds from the rest of the city.<p>

Slithering to a halt, Sisko struggled to regain his balance when he suddenly felt Evans grab his arm. Following the older captain's gesture, he wasn't prepared for the shock that felt like a slap in the face.

The force field was on again. Its flickering shimmer in the air was hard not to notice.

"That's impossible!" His voice barely made it over the din around them.

No, it shouldn't be. Bashir should have overridden the security sub-system by now. Unless…

"Dammit! Something must have gone wrong. Dr. Bashir didn't get the code in in time. We're trapped in here!" Evans shouted, cursing.

There wasn't much time left. He didn't know what exactly had gone wrong. But somehow Bashir hadn't managed to override the sub-system in time. As soon as the power grid of the whole complex had been jammed by the first explosion, the security backup system had powered in, lending the leaking grid the necessary energy it needed. And now they were trapped. In only a few more moments the last explosive charges were due to go off, not only taking with them the rest of the complex but also every living being within their reach.

"Damn!" Sisko turned in frustration. Not far away, he could see the group of huddled prisoners coming closer in a desperate run.

His bad feeling had proven true. Running a sweaty hand over his head, his vision filled with the sight of black smoke, billowing heavily up into the morning sky. He clamped down on the urge to utter another blunt curse. No, things never went that easy…

'

**=/\= To be continued... =/\=**

2012 by Mijra**  
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